


Revered and Reviled

by sinnerman



Series: Daughters of the Heavens, Sons of the Sith [1]
Category: Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 98,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinnerman/pseuds/sinnerman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love, obsession, madness, and the ties that bind each one to the other.  Certain story elements do not match canon (from the comics) but it fits in with the games.  This story comes first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Love, And Other Bad Things

The servitor knelt before her, although to anyone watching, it would seem he was fixing a buckle on his shoes.  With a soft word of thanks, the servitor left.  Revan watched him leave with a soft smile.  She turned to leave the clinic, and bumped into someone.

"Alek!" Revan put her hands on his chest to steady herself.  "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" said Alek furiously.  "What are you doing here, Revan?  This is a fertility clinic!  Are you… "

Revan laughed, with a toss of her golden hair.  Her cold blue eyes sparkled with amusement.  "I was helping someone, Alek.  Come, let's get away from here before someone else sees us and thinks something equally ridiculous."  She threaded her arm through his, and pulled him away from the medical facility, and started back towards the Enclave.  "I can't believe I didn't notice you following me," she laughed.

Alek could tell she was angry, not at him, but at herself.  "You were probably distracted."

Revan looked up at him.  "I was donating some eggs and genetic material."  She watched him for his reaction.

"Eggs?  Why?" Alek was confused, but relieved.  The Council did not take kindly to students breaking their vows, but even less did they approve of the destruction of the unborn.

Revan looked around before answering.  "Because my bloodline is important to my people.  They want to make sure it continues, even though I can never marry and have children."

"Your people?  I thought you didn't know where you came from!"

Revan smiled again, a slight twist to her humor.  "I've been told to forget it, and asked to never mention it to the other students, so I don't.  I was taken away as a child, and now I'm trying to avoid a civil war on my homeworld because there isn't anyone left with the right genes."

"Your world doesn't have a democracy or a republic?"

Revan shook her head.

"I didn't think there were any worlds in Republic space that were still so backwards.  No offense."

"None taken," said Revan cheerfully.  "They're not part of the Republic, and never will be.  We should stop talking about it now," she said hurriedly, and pulled away from him.  The student halls and the main buildings of the Enclave were now in sight.

Alek sighed.  "You know you can trust me, Revan."

She looked up at him, curiously.  "Yes, I do know that, Alek.  I have no choice but to trust you, at this point.  And yet, your reasons are suspect."

He blushed.  "Well, I hope I can trust you, as well."

"You can," she assured him.  "But Alek…."  She looked up at him, her blue eyes sparkling in her pale face.  "You really have no idea how dangerous this is.  You must be careful of yourself."

He looked at her, but didn't answer right away.  Standing here, in the shadow of the Jedi Enclave, he couldn't say what he wanted to say.  He could only feel it, and know that she would feel it too.  Their natures were too similar, their spirits too close, for her not to feel his emotions at a time like this.

"You must be careful of yourself, Alek," she repeated, and entered the Enclave without speaking again.

He waited a few days before bringing it up again.  They were in the local droid shop, where Revan was going over a new set of catalogs that had just come in.  Alek was leaning over her, pretending to read.

"Revan?" His voice was low, not quite a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"Why do they need your eggs?"

She didn't look up from the datapad.  "It's a little complicated, Alek.  Technically," her voice was just as low as his, an almost-whisper that only he could hear, "I'm a clone.  Just not an exact one."  She looked up at him, her blue eyes bright beneath her long, dark lashes.  "They need the material so that the next copy doesn't have the same flaws that I do."

Alek considered.  "That's the first time I've ever heard someone refer to the Force as a flaw."

She smiled, her bright red lips curving sweetly in her pale face.  "Believe me, Alek, it is a great flaw."  She brought up the next screen of personal combat droids.  "Alek, please don't dwell on this anymore.  It isn't … good.  For either of us."

"Of course, Revan."


	2. The Trail of Dawn

Revan laughed joyously as the icy wind whipped past her.  "This is glorious!"

"Well, it's certainly different from Dantooine," Alek grumbled.  "You're actually enjoying this," he stared at her.  "Aren't you cold?"

"No!" Something about the ice and snow of Alzoc seemed to make her wild.  "This is why all the students are raised on desert worlds.  It's too hot to do anything, it makes them want to sit still, it makes them quiet and thoughtful.  But here, a planet like this – " she threw out her arms, and spun in a circle, "here, in the cold, if you sit still and quiet, you will die!  You must move, you must live!  You cannot accept the cold, you have to fight it!  Come!" She seized his hand and dragged him, unresisting to the top of the mountain.

Alek could barely feel the cold as he struggled through the snow behind her, just the touch of her hand was enough to keep him warm.  They reached the top, at last.  He watched her spin in a wild, happy dance.

"Look!  Isn't it beautiful, Alek!  Look at everything you can see up here!"

He smiled, and gazed out at the snow fields below, broken here and there by a stand of trees or a clump of huts.  In the distance, the one lone spaceport was barely visible.  The bright sun reflected harshly on the blue ice, the same color as Revan's eyes.  He turned to the south, and started as he saw what seemed to be a strangely colored fire.  "What is that?"

"The trail of dawn, fire on the snow," she smiled.  Then with a laugh, she explained.  "It's an atmospheric phenomenon, generated by the solar wind and only evident at a planet's polar regions.  The ions are trapped in the planet's magnetic field, and here in the cold, thin air, we can see the result with naked eyes."

Alek watched the mesmerizing lights in silence for a few minutes, then turned to ask Revan a question.  His foot shot out from beneath him on the unfamiliar terrain, but she was still holding his hand and kept him from sliding over.

"Careful!"

Alek considered, then pulled her down to the ground with him.  Revan gave one surprised shriek before falling on top of him, laughing.  He pulled her to him, and they sank into the snow in a flurry of robes.

"You're not being very careful, Alek."

"No, Revan, I'm not."  He met her eyes, marked her smile, the sudden wildness in her eyes.  "I am fighting the cold."  Alek waited, wondering how she would respond to his invitation.

She moved first, faster than lightning, kissed him savagely and passionately.  Alek was a little shocked.  He had always known that Revan hid things, but this, this passion, this lack of control – how could she ever have hidden this from her Masters?  He knew how hard he had struggled to conceal his own restrained passion.  But she was kissing him, drawing his soul from his lips, and he couldn't think of anything but Revan anymore.  Revan, her body, lithe and strong, pressed against his; her lips, soft and burning like fire.  She buried her hands in his hair, and whispered his name softly.  He ran his hands over her body, tracing the outline of her curves beneath the robes, holding her to him.

Suddenly she pulled away, and shot to her feet.  She didn't need to say anything, and quickly helped Alek up.  She looked at him, thoughtfully, then bent down and picked up a handful of snow.

Alek raised an eyebrow.  "What are you doing, Revan?"

"You look like someone's been kissing you."  She threw a snowball at him, hitting him squarely in the face.  "Now, you don't."

"Revan!" He made his own ball of snow and threw it back at her.  "Now you don't either!"

She laughed, and threw another snowball at him.  By the time Master Lestin arrived at the top of the mountain, seeking his wayward students, they were in the middle of a genuine snowball fight, laughing like children, with cheeks bright from the cold and their hair sopping wet from the snow.

The Twi'lek shook his head in mock despair at the two young humans.  "So much for the vaunted dignity of the Order.  If you two are ready, we should return to the lodge and see if our ship is ready to leave now."

"Yes, Master," they chorused in union.  Revan brushed away the last of the snow from her robes, and helped Malak do the same.  He had, by far, gotten the worst of the fight.  Her aim was unerring, and she had practically covered him with snowballs.

"Was the mission successful, Master?" asked Revan as they walked back.

Alek listened with half an ear, and instead looked at the snow.  They had left an obvious trail as they had walked up.  The Master hadn't needed to use the Force to find them, and Revan's innate sensitivity had warned her of his approach.  No need to hide what was in plain sight, after all.  Master Lestin had lectured Alek on his passion for Revan more than once.  But he wondered now, had anyone ever noticed Revan's feelings?  Or were all the Masters too busy being concerned by her insatiable thirst for knowledge, following the obvious trail and ignoring the hidden meaning beneath?  He glanced at Master Lestin, who was carefully explaining the intricacies of the newly crafted treaty to Revan.

"Alek?" Revan looked at him.  "Are you all right?"

"Blinded by the snow," Alek replied.

Revan smiled at him, and took his arm.  "Just follow me."


	3. Mirrors and Masks

"The mask is a bit...  theatrical, isn't it, Revan?"

The door closed, and Revan sank into the couch before pulling off the mask and tossing it aside.  "Indeed, it is, Alek.  But that's what a war like this calls for.  No one wants to see a tiny blonde girl at the head of an army."  She laughed suddenly.  "Well, no one except you."

Alek smiled grimly.  "I'll follow you, Revan.  I know you will see this to the end, no matter what."  He gazed at her, drinking in the sight of her face, her eyes.  "You've changed so much, Revan, and yet....  Is this really what you want?"

Revan sighed, and looked up at him.  "No, my Alek, but they want war, and they need a warrior to lead them.  Someone fearless and fearsome, someone they can all follow.  And I want them to win, so I will do whatever I have to.  I will give up my face so they don't have to worry about my emotions, and they can just follow my commands."

"What did you call me?" he asked curiously.

Revan blushed a little.  "What did it sound like?  I lisp sometimes, merge words.  It's how I got my own name as a child."

"You called me Malak," he said softly.

"Yes," she said, her eyes drinking in his face, so changed, and yet so familiar.  "My Alek.  They ruined your hair," she said sadly.

"I don't want your pity," he said calmly, forcing himself not to snarl.  "I just want this wrong righted.  I want the Mandalorians stopped, once and for all."

"I want that too," she replied, calmly, but her eyes were dark and inscrutable.  She was blocking him from sensing her emotions.  "You're going to stay with me, Malak?  You're not going to leave me to do this alone?"

He nodded.  "I will stay if you want me, Revan."

She stood up, without answering.  Walked over to the window, and looked out at the ruins of Cathar, but seeing none of it.

"You've shut me out, Revan.  Do you not trust me anymore?"

"I trust you, Malak.  I have to, and I chose to.  But you've changed too, Malak.  So much has changed.  Stay with me, let me learn you all over again."  She turned finally, but didn't meet his eyes.

He nodded, not sure if he truly understood.  But it seemed that the mask was more than a bit of theatre.  Revan really had changed.

"We are going against the wishes of the Council," she said suddenly.  "They will permit this, but they won't like it.  Are you prepared for that?"

Malak set his jaw.  "The Mandalorians must be stopped, Revan.  They were trying to find a way to negate the Jedi ability to manipulate the Force.  There is no way the Council can allow this – "

"We won't," she said shortly, cutting him off.  "I won't."

For a split second, he could feel her.  The bond between them, usually so well-controlled, unexpectedly unlocked.  He could practically taste the anger, the burning need for vengeance eating away at her.

Not for some unnamed Mandalorian who had tried to stand up to a vicious leader, not for some barely known race almost completely wiped out by the Mandalorian need to prove their strength.  No, she wanted vengeance on the Mandalorians because they had dared to lay hands on him.  On her Alek.

Through their friendship, through their love, even separated by years and their respective Masters, she had remained connected to him.  Through the Force.  "Revan!" She had been connected to him the entire time.

She backed away from him, tried to close the connection between them again, but he refused to let her.  "No, don't shut me out, Revan.  Don't!  Please," he said desperately.  He pulled her into his arms, "Please, Revan, please."

Revan let him hold her, and with a soft cry, as if in pain, opened the bond between them to the fullest, letting him drink in her love, her passion, her hunger for him.  She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him close to her, let herself be lost in the physical contact as her emotions washed over him.  All those years, she had loved him, protected him, watched over him, even when they had been parted by the rules of the Council and their Masters for fear that they would grow too close.  But their rules had come too late, and fallen too short.

"Revan!  You were there – " he couldn't even say the words, he just held her, and let himself know.  In his darkest hour, she had been with him.  Given him the strength to resist the pain and the suffering.  "And I never knew!" he gasped, suddenly ashamed of himself.

She laughed.  "You knew, Malak.  You just didn't want to admit it."  She put her arms around him, let her head rest on his chest, and slowly closed the bond, lowering the intensity of their connection.

He could feel her regaining her equilibrium, the release washing away the worst of the anger, leaving only a stern determination to stop the Mandalorians.  He held her more tightly.  "Revan, you..."  Words were so useless here.  He kissed her instead, letting her drink in his love, his gratitude, his adoration, with every kiss and every breath.  For a moment, they were one, wrapped in each other and the Force.  "I love you, Revan."

A light seemed to shine from within her, and she smiled at him.  "Malak!  I've waited to hear that for so long."  She kissed him again, joyous and thrilled at the confirmation.  Revan pulled away slightly, met his eyes.  "Are you sure you want ….  We will definitely be punished for this.  Censured, at the very least."

Malak laughed.  "At least, let us earn this punishment then.  And at the end, we will face them together and take what comes."  He lifted her in his arms, kissed her again.  "I will stand by you, Revan, whatever happens."

She smiled, ran her hands over his head, tracing the outline of the tattoos, before drawing her hand slowly down the side of his face.  She drew her fingers carefully over his brow, touched his cheek, traced the outline of his lips.  He bent down to her, kissed her again.  Her hands moved up, pulling his head closer to her.

He walked over to the couch, and lay down with her on top of him, still locked in an embrace.  She pushed away his robes, kissed the bare skin of his neck, his shoulders.

"You are mine, Alek?"

"From this day forward, I am yours, Revan.  There will be no other," he vowed.  He could feel it in her soul, a slight twinge of jealousy at his words.  "Forgive me, love.  I did not wait for you.  I did not know."

"You did not have faith," she corrected him.  She smiled, ran her hands over his chest.  "I suppose it is for the best.  Now one of us knows what we are doing."

He laughed, and sat up a little so that he could shrug off his robes completely.  "The Force does work in mysterious ways."  He kissed her again, trying to convince her with his touch what she would not believe from his words.  "I am yours, Revan.  I am, I belong to you.  There is no one else!"

Revan sat up, so that she could look down at him, his exquisitely muscled body.  She ran a hand over the sharply outlined muscles of his chest, then his arms.  He slid his hands beneath her robes, so that he could caress the sleek, lithe muscles of her thighs, her curves and her softness.  She smiled shyly at his touch.

"You are very beautiful, Revan," he whispered hoarsely, his voice tinged with passion.

"And you are quite the man, Malak.  You were not so… big, when you were younger."  She touched the muscles of his arm again, her eyes admiring the overtly masculine shape, the strength evident there.  "But you were always handsome."

He moved his hand up, just brushing over the entrance of her body on his way to undo the belt of her robes, and was pleased to see her flush slightly at the contact.  She moved her shoulders, sinuous and graceful, and the robes fell away completely.  She was wearing an expensive camisole beneath her robes, rather than the utilitarian tank so common in the Republic.  Malak smiled, and tugged gently at the laces.

"Your secret love of luxury.  I'd almost forgotten about that."

She smiled, amused that he would comment on it, now of all times.

Malak undid the lacing, slowly slid his hand up between her breasts so that the camisole would fall away.  "You're very, very beautiful, Revan."  He gently cupped one of her breasts in his hand, caressed her.  "Very, very beautiful."  He moved his hand to her back, her hips, then back up to her shoulders, and pulled her down to him for another soul-searing kiss.  The touch of her bared breasts against his chest was electric, charged with all the power of the Force bond between them.

"Malak," she murmured, just to hear the sound of his name.  "My Alek, my own."

"Revan?"

"Malak?" she answered mockingly.

He laughed.  "What does your name mean, then?"

She smiled, and kissed the muscles of his chest.  "When I was a child, I couldn't say my title and name correctly."  Revan sighed at the memory.  "The Most Holy and Revered Anastasia.  It's a bit pretentious, isn't it?"

Malak stroked her back.  "And yet, very appropriate.  Anastasia," he murmured, thrilling to the sound of the unfamiliar name.  "It suits you.  It is a very beautiful name."  He pulled away the ribbon that held her golden hair in place, and let it fall to her shoulders.  Pulled a lock of her hair to his lips and kissed it.  "Revered Anastasia."

She took his face in her hands, kissed him, madly, passionately, as if she would never let him go.  "You are mine, Alek!  Mine!  I've waited so long for this," she murmured, "I want you so badly."

He smiled at her sweet, fiery possessiveness, so unlike her normal coldness.  Malak rejoiced at knowing that she was his, and his alone.  In all the universe, he was the only man that Revan desired, the only man that she would ever touch.  He slid his hands down her body, pushing away her clothes.

Revan kissed him, touched his arms, his shoulders, the rippling muscles of his chest, delighted by his strength and physical perfection.  "So wonderful," she whispered.  "What a man you are, Alek!"

Malak kissed her again, touched her body, naked at last.  She was lithe, curved, built for speed rather than strength and yet, she was in no way weak or helpless.  She pressed herself against him, instinctively moving her hips over his hardness.  She moaned, uncertain how to ease the burning need inside her.  Malak smiled, and sat up so that he could lift her in his arms again.

She laid her head on his shoulder, held him tightly, thrilled by his display of physical strength.  Kissed his shoulder, tasted his skin.  The taste of his sweat made her even wilder, and she bit him on the neck, dug her nails into his skin as if she would draw blood and drink it.

Malak laid her down on the bed, shoving the pillows out of the way.  She shifted herself beneath him, her arms still clasped behind his neck, her legs sliding along his body.  Malak braced himself on his arm, moved her legs apart so she was open to him.  She gasped at the first contact, and he held her gently, whispering to soothe and reassure her.  Revan closed her eyes, dug her nails into the muscles of his arms as he worked himself into her.

"Malak," she gasped, her voice wild and passionate.  "Oh, Alek, so wonderful!"

Malak kissed her desperately, hungrily, as he thrust into Revan's body, into her warmth and tightness.  The sharpness of her nails digging into his flesh, the feel of her teeth on his skin, drove him on, made him wilder, gave him strength.  He was amazed at how their bodies fit together so perfectly, as if they had been made for each other.  Her legs were wrapped around his hips, locked behind his back.  He pounded into her, feeling her muscles tighten around him with every stroke.  Revan's cries of passion excited him, thrilled him.  Her nails dug into his back, leaving passionate welts and making him shudder, thrust harder and harder.

Revan couldn't control her body anymore, she belonged here, with Malak inside her.  She arched, screaming, into his pounding, clasped her legs tighter around him, pulled him closer.  Her body quivered, and she seemed to melt as he thrust one last time into her.  Malak sank down on top of her, burying his head in her breasts, panting.

He recovered after a few minutes, and pulled himself away from her.  Revan watched him, her eyes warm and soft, still half-dazed.  She laid a hand on his arm, let it trail away as he stood up.  Malak smiled down at her, then leaned over and kissed her again.

"My beautiful Revan," he murmured.


	4. Stripped

Mandalore the Ultimate laughed.  Without their leader, the Republic forces would fail.  Malak was a good second, but he did not have the spark that made Revan so successful and feared.  It wasn't even clear whether Malak was in charge of the forces arrayed against them, or whether the Mandalore's trap had caught them both on the fringes of the battle.

"Victory, at last!" he shouted, and his men cheered with him.  They watched the fight, the Mandalorian wedge driving further into the position of the Republic fleet.

Suddenly, something rocked the ship, and klaxons sounded the alarm.  The flagship had been boarded.

"What?" The Mandalore looked at the screens.  A small, insignificant ship had snuck up to the side of the Mandalorian flagship and boarded them.  "To arms!  Repel boarders!"

The Mandalore activated an energy shield, and raced out to the hallway.  Before he saw it, he heard the distinctive noise of lightsabers.  "Jedi?" he stared in disbelief.  "But, it can't be…"

The Mandalore led his men closer to the melee, his heart cold within him.

A small group of Republic soldiers was holding the door, preventing reinforcements from entering the room.  They had locked down the airlocks and the communications grid.

In the center of the room, two Jedi were fighting back to back, alone except for a pile of Mandalorian corpses.  One, taller and larger, wielding a sparkling blue lightsaber, longer and brighter than any normal Jedi saber.  The other, smaller and slighter, a lightsaber in each hand, perfectly balanced blades, both glowing a brilliant violet unlike any other Jedi saber.

The Mandalore watched them fight for a few moments, stunned.  They moved perfectly together, covering each other in a way that any Mandalorian would have envied.  The smaller Jedi wore a mask – a Mandalorian mask, taken from the killing grounds of Cathar.  "Revan," the Mandalore breathed, "how can this be?" He couldn't move, shocked, continued watching them fight.  "Impossible."  His eyes were telling him things that couldn't be.  Revan couldn't be here.  His trap had failed then, and Revan had taken advantage of it to come here, to attack the heart of the Mandalorian army.  And yet, there was more.  "A woman."  Revan, the dauntless, tireless warrior who had brought Mandalore to its knees – a woman.

The Mandalore snarled with rage, and fired his blaster at her.  Her lightsaber flashed like fire, deflected the bolt.  The Mandalore took a deep breath, warred with himself.  He fired again, more carefully this time.  With a cry of rage, she moved, sparing the life of a young Mandalorian warrior to block the shot that the Mandalore had fired at Malak.  The Mandalore smiled beneath his mask.  "Lovers."

Malak glanced over his shoulder, saw the Mandalorians entering from the bridge.  But only one mattered: the tall Taung in the gold Mandalorian mask and the red armor.  "Revan, go, I can hold them here."  Malak cut down more of the Mandalorians, and moved so that the strike team they had brought with them was covering his back.

Revan could have charged, or used her Jedi powers to close with Mandalore the Ultimate.  Instead, she carved a path to him through the bodies of the Mandalorians, striking like lightning and sparing none.

The Mandalore snarled as he saw his warriors fall back before her ferocity.  "Cowards," he hissed in his native tongue.  "This is your only chance to die well, and you refuse it?"

His words stiffened the nerves of the young warriors, and they tried again, unwilling to shrink from combat under the eyes of the Mandalore himself.  They died as did every Mandalorian that came within reach of her lightsabers.  The last shots rang out, and finally they were face to face, the two leaders of the two opposing forces.

"Jedi General.  Jedi Knight," said the Mandalore.  He didn't know if she spoke Mandalorian, and didn't care.  He considered Galactic Basic to be beneath him.  "A traitor to your code.  You have only won this battle by being more Mandalorian than the Mandalore himself."

Revan laughed.  "Mandalore, your people are children compared to mine when it comes to the ways of war.  I only grieve that you will never see the suffering I plan to inflict on the shattered clans."  She spun her lightsabers, patiently waiting for the Mandalore to draw his weapon.  "I will send your women to work as drudges, Mandalore, and their children to work in mines.  Fathers will never see their children again, wives will be too ashamed to face their husbands, brothers and sisters will not even know each other.  The language of Mandalore will become the language of mercenaries and slaves.  Your culture will be a footnote in history, and your famous armors will be scrap metal, harvested by naked Mandalorian children for food."

"You?  A Jedi?  And you speak thusly to me?" said the Mandalore in disbelief.

"You are the only one here who understands me, Mandalore.  I chose my companions well.  They know I am taunting you, yes, but they do not know I already have Hutts waiting to buy the remains of your people."

The Mandalore growled, drew his blade.  "You truly are a traitor to your code!  I will not slay you, Revan.  I will break you, and sample the pleasures that Malak has taken from your body.  I will hand you over to every General at my table and let them fill every hole in your body with their seed.  And then I shall hand you over to the women, and let them do what they will with your body."

Revan giggled before she could stop herself.  "That was very impressive, considering that you didn't know I was a woman until a few minutes ago.  Come, Mandalore the Ultimate.  Come, fight, die, and be forgotten.  Your children will not sing for you, your clan will never see your mask again, your bones will turn to dust between the stars.  The only thing left to you is to die bravely."  Revan laughed.  "I stayed up late to come up with that one."

Enraged, the Mandalore struck out, and she parried him with ease.  He tried again, testing her.  Her speed was unbelievable; her sense of balance incredible.  She did not need strength, not the way she fought.  Her lightsabers were truly an extension of her body, and to her, combat was a joy.  Under other circumstances, the Mandalore would have enjoyed the fight.  She was truly a warrior.  It was not just in her blood, but in every part of her being.

"You should have been a Mandalorian, Revan.  You would have made a magnificent mate."

Revan laughed.  "Not for you, Mandalore."

"Perhaps not," the Mandalore replied, "but certainly we would have found a more fitting father for your children than that coward, Malak."

"Malak is no coward!" Revan hissed.

The Mandalore smiled beneath his mask.  "Perhaps not.  He did offer himself up to torture to protect – but that wasn't you, was it?" He expected her to react, perhaps to be angry, show a crack in her impenetrable guard.

Revan killed him.  Her lightsabers flashed faster than thought, fueled by her insane rage.  She cut off one of the Mandalore's arms, then sliced through his neck, neatly severing his head from his body.  The helmet fell, bounced and rolled to a stop at her feet.  The body jerked once, then toppled over backwards.  His sword arm went flying and slapped bloodily against the wall, leaving a peculiar stain.  Revan fought down the wave of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her, then knelt to pick up the Mandalore's golden mask.  Her hand was still shaking with rage.

The soldiers behind her were cheering, and the Mandalorians in the rooms beyond were fleeing.  Malak gave orders, cleared the room, so that he was alone with her.

"Revan?"

"It is done, Malak.  He is dead, and the Mandalorians are broken.  Now we only need to root out the individual clans."

"What are you going to do with the mask?"

Revan smiled beneath her mask.  "No one will ever know.  No Mandalorian will ever wear this mask again.  There will never be another Mandalore."  She hid the mask inside her robe.

Malak wrapped his arms around her.  "Take off the mask, Revan.  Let me see your face."

Revan pulled off the mask, smiled weakly at him.  "Do I look very strange, Malak?"

He bent his head to hers, kissed her, and kissed away tears that she hadn't realized were there.  "I don't know what he was saying to you, my love.  Do I need to?"

Revan shook her head, and rested her head on Malak's broad chest with a sigh of contentment, and felt her emotions balancing again.

"You are magnificent, Revan."

"Thank you, Malak."  She looked up at him.  "For everything."

Malak smiled warmly at her, bend his head to hers again, kissed her.  She slid her hands along his arms, and dropped her mask so that she could hold him closer.  The mask clattered to the floor, and they both ignored it in favor of a deeper embrace.

Someone laughed quietly behind them, then coughed to get their attention.

Revan pulled away reluctantly, and saw one of her pilots standing nervously just outside the room filled with dead Mandalorians, pretending that he hadn't seen the two Jedi locked in a kiss.

"Your pardon, General Revan, but there is a message from the main fleet for you."

"I'll be there in a moment," said Revan calmly.  She looked at Malak again, her eyes soft.  He smiled back at her, and handed her the mask.  Revan smiled, and replaced the mask before walking out of the room to complete the destruction of the Mandalorians.


	5. The Disciple

"Come in."

The door unlocked, allowing Malak to enter Revan's chamber.

"Why is the door locked, Revan?"

Revan was still wearing her mask.  She stood, walked over to the window.  "Things must change, Malak.  We have mastered the Star Forge.  We are Sith, now.  We can no longer remain as we are."

"What?"

The Dark Side is not a simple fall.  It is never a single choice.  It is always a series of small choices, little things, that build up until you can no longer take the choice of walking any other path seriously.  The final step perhaps, manifests as some outburst of anger or evil.  But that outburst is never the first step.  No one ever wakes up one day and decides to turn to the Dark Side.

"There are always two, Malak.  A Master and an apprentice."

"I know that," Malak said impatiently.  "What does that have to do with us?"

Revan turned, removed the mask, and looked at Malak, her eyebrow raised slightly.  It is always the little things.  Little bits of self-indulgence.  Little lies of omission.  Not warning a trusted friend about the true dangers of a dangerous artifact – neglecting to mention the incredible amount of control that it requires, knowing that he would be tempted to try and use himself someday.  Letting your lover think that he has successfully deceived you with another woman – hiding your jealousy day after day, hoping against hope that something would change despite your inaction.

"Well, Malak, surely you plan to take an apprentice of your own?  I wouldn't begrudge you."

"What?" Malak still didn't understand.

"The Sith methods of training are rather different from those of the Jedi, you do realize that?  The connection is much closer, much more...  deep.  Surely you understand, Malak?"

What is torture?  It is nothing more than emotional manipulation.  Causing someone pain to achieve your desired result.  Enjoying that pain?  That is something different entirely.

Malak stared at her, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing.  "You mean...  you and I..."

She sighed, gently and calmly.  All a lie.  Her heart was pounding in her chest, hoping but unwilling to believe that it would work.  "Even if I were strong enough to keep up two bonds as powerful as that, I would not want to."  She shook her head.  "I am not comfortable with so much intimacy, Malak.  You know that.  It's not in my nature."  Indeed, Revan mocked herself, such intimacy would make it impossible for her to tell so many outrageous lies, or to feign a weakness in the place of her greatest strength.

"So, you would give me up for power?" he asked, quietly bitter.  The connection between them was closed, neither of them wanted to be open to each other right now.  But she could still hear the pain in his voice, and it thrilled her.

"Wouldn't you?" she challenged.  "What then, would you have me do, Malak?"

Revan would go no further.  It was his place to say the words.  It had to be his decision, or it meant nothing.

So many paths to the Dark Side, and yet, the destination is always the same.

Malak watched her face, but she was cold and still, and would give him no sign, no hint of what she wanted.  For a moment, he stood still, his pride warring with his love and his need of her, the fear of seeing another in his place.  If she had raged at him, he would have fought.  If she had commanded him, he would have resisted.  But against this quiet resignation, this patient finality – what could he do?  What choice did he have?  Malak looked down at the floor, at her tiny, perfect feet.  He knelt, slowly, before her.

"Malak, do not do this unless you truly mean it," she said warningly, but her voice trembled.  She couldn't help it; she wanted this, she wanted him so much.

"Master."

"If you come to me, Malak," she whispered, "it will be on my terms and by my rules.  Do you understand this?"

"Yes, Master."

"If you anger me, I will punish you.  I will not show you mercy just because I happen to love you."

"Yes, Master."  Malak held back a smile at her admission.

She took a deep breath.  She had to push him, give him one last chance to escape.  "Malak, you are not being careful."

"Master, I have followed you to the edge of space and beyond.  You are not a woman who inspires caution.  I respected you when we were fellow students.  I admired you when you led us against the Mandalorians.  I have always adored you, always.  You are my Master and my Lord, in the Sith and everywhere you choose to be.  I need nothing more."

 

The fallen Jedi were always the hardest for Malak to deal with.  They tried too hard to prove they were immoral, and were too afraid to truly enjoy their newfound power.  They also assumed that every other Jedi felt the same way.  Also, most of them had never met Malak or Revan in person, which led to quite a few interesting mishaps.

Malak was sparring with one of the new Sith, a fallen Jedi named Geele.  Geele was too angry to be a very good duelist, and Malak was amusing himself.  He kept Geele at arm's length, and occasionally taunted him to keep him wild and on edge.

One particularly wild blow ripped Malak's shirt before he could dodge, and Geele paused.  "Did I do that?" he asked, gesturing at the mark on Malak's arm.

"You?  No," Malak laughed, "I displeased my Master.  That's been there for a few days."

Geele sneered.  "You let your Master beat you?  I'd die first."

"Probably," Malak agreed.  "You wouldn't last an hour with my Master."

Their swords clashed again before Geele continued.  "I would never submit to such treatment.  I would never let myself be degraded that way."

Malak grinned.  "So how would you let yourself be degraded?" He easily blocked Geele's blow.  "You put up with sleeping in a kennel, eating vegetable scraps, and giving up everyone you ever loved.  And you think I should be ashamed of a few bruises?"

Geele charged him wildly, suddenly furious with some memory.

Malak turned the attacks easily, laughing quietly to himself.  "As it happens, I am quite proud of them.  My Master cares enough about me to correct my mistakes, watches over me, protects me.  My Master had an entire galaxy of students to choose from, and chose me, and me alone."  Malak swept his blade under Geele's guard, toppling the fallen Jedi to the mat.  Malak rolled up his sleeve, showing off the series of welts that Revan had left on his arm.  "Your Master didn't care for you any more than he cared for any of the other students under his tutelage.  You were nothing to him.  Your Master sat on a rock and watched you walk away."  He saw Geele shake with anger, and laughed.  Malak leaned on his blade and watched Geele walk out of the training area.

"You're gloating," observed a quiet voice from behind him.  Malak turned quickly, but didn't see Revan anywhere.  "If you break all your toys, Malak, I'm not going to buy you any new ones."


	6. Complicated Game

Malak entered the room where Revan was waiting.  Six of the Mandalorian captives were chained to the wall.  Revan was standing in the center of the room, masked as usual, but completely unarmed.

"Are you ready for a lesson, my student?" she asked calmly.

"Yes, Master," said Malak, trying to match her tone.

"You are dismissed," she waved the guards away.

The guards bowed, and left the chamber.  Revan paced back and forth, contemplating the prisoners.

"Master?"

Revan nodded, indicating that Malak could ask his question.

"These are footsoldiers, are they not, Master?  Where are the leaders that we captured?"

Revan laughed, a hollow and ugly sound.  "I have disposed of them.  They had nothing useful to tell us.  Their absence, however, is invaluable to us."

Malak looked at the prisoners, defiant and terrified, on the wall.  "Forgive my stupidity, Master, but I don't understand."

Revan gestured contemptuously at the prisoners.  "Rank and file.  They were dead when they were captured, they just haven't stopped breathing yet.  Release some of them, and they will carry wild tales of the torture that their companions were subjected to, even without seeing it.  And more ominously, they won't know what happened to their leaders.  All that knowledge, all that power, gone forever.  Every Mandalorian clan that loses a leader in battle will have to pick a new one, and that new leader will be crippled by lack of wisdom and experience, and worse, the realization that if they fall in battle, the same thing will happen to the next leader.  Eventually, Malak, they will run out of talent and training.  When was the last time blind skill won a war?"

"We will defeat you, Sith Lord!  And the Republic!  Mandalore will spread – "

"Shut up," snarled Revan impatiently, and used the Force to choke the Mandalorian into unconsciousness.  "Where was I?  Ah, your lesson."  She drew back one of her outer robes, and drew a long knife.

"Are we going to torture them, Master?" asked Malak, trying to keep his voice steady and emotionless.  "Surely they have no knowledge worth the effort."

"They will probably die," said Revan carelessly.  "But I have no intention of wasting my breath asking them any questions.  This is a lesson, not an interrogation."  Suddenly Revan laughed.  "Oh, the knife!  It's not for them, Malak."  She pulled off her mask and set it aside, ignoring the shocked and rude comments from the Mandalorians as they realized that she was a woman.  Revan pulled back her sleeve, and stabbed herself in the forearm with the knife, twisting the blade so that it would make a good wound.

Malak stared, wide-eyed, as did the prisoners.  There was no sign on Revan's face of the pain she must be suffering.  She drew out the blade slowly, and watched blood drip from her arm.

"There are two ways we can use the Force to heal ourselves.  First, we can open ourselves to the Universe, pleading for assistance.  When we do that, we touch the planet, the wind, the sky, every living soul that we can reach, asking for help."  Revan shrugged.  "Useful.  A little slow, sometimes.  And then, there is the other way."  Revan looked at the prisoner who had commented on her sex.  She reached out, and drew his life force into her, forcing his essence to heal her wound.  His screams ripped through the chamber, and Malak was very glad that the interrogation chamber was soundproof.  The prisoner sagged back against his chains, barely alive.  Revan held up her arm.  The wound was completely gone, and she flexed her fingers to prove that no damage remained.

She held out the knife to Malak.  "Your turn.  Oh," she smiled, "let me clean that off first."

"That isn't necessary, Master," he said calmly, and took the bloody knife from her.  There was a spark when they touched, but neither acknowledged it.  He took the knife, stained with her blood, and rolled up his sleeve.  He could sense fear rolling off the prisoners.  Their helplessness, so soon after their taste of victory, must have been particularly galling to them.  He drove the knife into his arm, ripping into his own flesh with unexpected savagery.

"You flinched," Revan observed.

"Forgive me, Master."

"Get it right next time."

Malak pulled out the knife.  The lesson wasn't about using the Dark Side of the Force for healing.  It was about control.  Malak closed his eyes and concentrated.  There were only five prisoners left after he healed himself with what was left of the one Revan had used.  Five chances to control himself before Revan lost her temper.

Revan watched him for a while.  The lesson was very hard for him, possibly too hard.  She walked up and pulled the knife from his hand before he could start again.  "You're not very good at this, are you?"

Malak sank to his knees, shaking.  "No, Master, I am not."

Revan sighed, and looked at the last two prisoners.  One was half-dead, the other almost mad from terror.  She cleaned off the knife carefully, and returned it to its sheath.  "Malak, go and see where the scouts from the Tammuz Sector are.  They should have reported back by now."

"You aren't angry with me, Master?"

"I think you've punished yourself enough for now.  We will work on this lesson another time.  Go."

Malak stood, and looked ruefully at his ruined robes.

"You know, if you wore red, or black like I do, you wouldn't have that problem," Revan smiled.

Revan replaced the mask before he opened the door to leave the room, and watched him walk away, past the prisoners in their cells and the guards.  The bloodstained robes would give rise to the wildest tales, especially since he had no visible wounds.  Revan smiled.

She turned back to the remaining prisoners, and waited for the door to close before she drew the knife again.


	7. The Echo and the Name

"Lord Malak has returned, my Lord."

Revan nodded to the guard, and waved him away in dismissal.

The guard knelt respectfully, then left the bridge.  He walked back to the duty room, grinning.

"What?" asked another guard.

"We'll have to find a new way to get rid of people we don't like.  Malak's back, so sending them to annoy Revan won't work anymore."

The guards laughed.  "Remember the look on Verrdyk's face when we told him go tell Revan that we'd lost contact with Malak's ship?"

"He screamed for hours!"

"Oh, don't exaggerate.  It was only a few minutes."

"Very long, loud, minutes, yes."

"I take it the Sith Lord has been in a bad temper lately," said Malak quietly.

The guards whirled around, and Malak could practically taste their terror.  "Lord Malak!  We… er… we meant no disrespect!"

"They say familiarity breeds contempt," Malak mused.  "Perhaps I should arrange for you to become more familiar with some of the Sith Lord's amusements?"

The guards somehow became paler than they had been, which was particularly odd to see on the Twi'lek guard.  "Please, my Lord… we are loyal servants of the Sith!"

"You are slaves, not servants.  Do not presume to think otherwise."  Malak turned away and walked to the bridge.

The main bridge of the Misericordia was a small command center filled with viewscreens and databanks, unlike the large, heavily populated rooms of most cruisers in this class.  Revan preferred to be alone, surrounded with information, and spent most of her time planning battles rather than managing the crew.  The one thing Revan wished she could do was make the bridge of her flagship soundproof, but that had proved impossible.  It unfortunately limited her in certain situations, like this one.  They were alone, but there was a very high probability of being overheard, or worse, interrupted.  Revan, standing in front of the viewport, heard the door open, and knew that he was there, but didn't turn.

Malak knelt behind her.  "The mission was a success, Master.  All has turned out as you commanded.  I hope that you are pleased."

She held out her hand, still without speaking, and he handed her the datapads with his reports.  "You have been gone a long time, my student."

"The Jedi were very troublesome, Master," Malak snarled.  "Your teachings have been invaluable to me.  I brought some back as new recruits, and one, as a present."

Revan turned to him, glanced over the datapads.  "You found nothing else of interest in your travels, my student?"

Malak tried not to smile.  "I discarded some useless baggage from the past, Master, but nothing of importance happened.  I do apologize for shutting you out, Master.  The situation was… not of my choosing."

"And you do not intend to share this memory with me?"

"I would prefer not to, Master, but if you insist, then of course I will."  Malak was calm and quiet.  If she really wanted to know what had happened, she would find out.  It all depended on whether her astonishingly potent sense of jealousy would overcome her trust of him.

Revan took a deep breath, trying to calm herself and fight down the rush of insane possessiveness that always overtook her when it came to Malak's past infidelities.  Why should she care about some tawdry slave that had once caught his eye?  He was here, now, kneeling patiently and submissively before her, hungering for her touch, praying for her approval.  The very fact that he was here was proof that she was still important to him.

"May I ask a boon, Master?"

"If you wish," said Revan.  "I do not promise to grant it."

Malak nodded.  "Please remove the mask, Master.  I have waited for days to see your face again."

Revan shuddered.  Suddenly, she did not want to be a Sith Lord anymore.  She wanted to be a woman, alone with her lover.  Perhaps at a ball, where she would remove the mask, and he could kiss away the traces of her tears, assuage her fury with apologies and promises, and ease her passion with a night of wild lovemaking.

But she was not a woman.  She was the Dark Lord of the Sith, and Malak was her apprentice.

"Not yet, my student," she said softly.  Try as she might, she could not keep a slight edge out of her voice, a slight trembling.  "You will come to me tonight, when we dock at Behant."  Revan turned away again, began reading the datapads more thoroughly.  "Try not to anger me before then.  You may go."

Malak did not move for a moment.  "If not the mask, Master, may I at least kiss your feet before I go?"

Revan smiled beneath the mask, turned back, extended her foot to him.  "Someone is abusing my weaknesses," she said sweetly, and leaned against the desk for support.

He slipped off one of her shoes, amused that she was wearing heels on the bridge instead of the sensible boots that she normally wore.  "I assure you, Master, I have no idea what you are talking about."  He pulled off the silk stocking covering her tiny foot.  "But I admit that it is quite a stroke of fortune that you are not wearing heavy boots."

"Coincidence."

"The Force works in mysterious ways."  He bent his head down, kissed the arch of her perfectly shaped foot, kissed his way down to her toes, each nail painted a different bright color.  His hands, large and warm, cradled her foot as he caressed it with his lips and his tongue.

Revan shuddered, in pleasure this time, as Malak kissed the sole of her foot, then her ankle, and began working his way up her lower leg.  She gasped when she felt his lips, warm and insistent, on the sensitive skin of her knee.  "That's not my foot, Malak."

"Your pardon, Master," he said in mock surprise.  "My hand must have slipped."

"Go."  Her voice was pleased now, not tense and angry as she had been before.

Malak knew better than to leave Revan when she was angry, and always found a way to improve her mood, restore her balance before he left.  He replaced her stocking after giving her toes one last kiss, and then put her shoe back on for her.  "You do have the most adorable toes, Master."

"Go, I have work to do."

Malak rose with a low chuckle, and left Revan alone on the bridge.  He wiped his face on his sleeve before stopping in the guardroom again.  "How many did you sacrifice to Revan's wrath while I was gone?"

"Four, my lord."

And she says I lack control, Malak mused to himself.  He went to his quarters to prepare.  Malak laughed to himself.  The rooms that he used as his quarters didn't even have a bed.  He only used it to store weapons and armor, and occasionally to study in silence when he needed a rest from Revan.

Malak sighed.  Lately, he had needed more of a rest from her than ever.  But when the chance came for a permanent break, he had found that he couldn't do it.  He wanted Revan, he craved her.  She was as necessary to him as the air he breathed.  Life without her would be worthless, a hollow shell of existence.  His memory flashed back to their first kiss, the snowball fight, and he smiled.  He loved Revan, and wished that he could prove it to her once and for all, that she didn't need to be jealous of anyone, that she was the only woman he loved.

The door chimed, announcing a servant.

Malak turned.  "Yes?"

"From Lord Revan, my Lord."  The servants carried in a trunk and set it down on the floor, then bowed and left the room.

Malak stared curiously at the trunk, then opened it.  "Clothes?" He lifted out the unfamiliar garments, heavy with embroidery and studded with jewels.  A long, tightly tailored jacket, made of some luxuriously soft material, with a high stiff collar and literally covered with gold and various gems, sewn on in a curving pattern with gold and silver thread.  He touched the thread.  It was actually made of the precious metals, spun to a thin, pliable filament.  A white shirt of some incredibly soft and smooth fabric, a vest of golden brocade with diamond buttons.  Pants covered in golden embroidery and encrusted with tiny blue stones sparkling along the sides.  The boots were made of leather.  Actual leather, from dead animals, and lined with fur.  Behant was another ice planet, he suddenly remembered.  At the bottom of the trunk was a heavy cloak, made of soft black fur, with a deep hood.

He smiled.  Revan's taste was impeccable, but this was the first time she had ever used it on him.  Malak shook his head in wonder, and let his personal servant dress him.  Clearly, Revan had already sent instructions on how to wear the unfamiliar garb.  When he was fully clothed, Malak stood before the mirror and grinned at his reflection.  He looked magnificent, even to his own eyes.  The suit was comfortable and fit perfectly, cleverly cut to reveal the breadth of his chest and the strength of his body.  The cloak was heavy and warm, and made him wonder what she had in mind.

A servant appeared to see if he was ready.  Malak nodded, and the servant led him down to Revan's private shuttle.  Revan had the Star Forge under her complete control, and was the only one who could make it generate things that weren't battleships or combat droids, things like the excessive luxury of her private shuttle.  Malak sank back into the thick cushions, and put his feet up on the fur-lined stool.  A servant brought him a sparkling drink.  He sipped it carefully.  Some of Revan's wines were much too strong for him, but this one was light and a little sweet.  Malak leaned back and sipped idly at his drink in sybaritic comfort.

The shuttle landed on the planet, and Malak stepped out to the icy wind, glad for the heavy cloak.  He pulled up the hood to keep the wind out of his eyes, and looked around.  A servant led him to a strange vehicle, an elegant box resting on elaborately shaped metal bars rather than wheels or hovering.  While he watched, servants brought out three very large beasts, and harnessed them to the vehicle.  He realized that the slightly raised part in the front must be for a driver.  The harnesses that connected the animals to the vehicle were covered with tiny silver bells that rang sweetly with every movement.  A thick cloth was laid over the backs of the animals, down to the snow.

Malak heard a strange, rhythmic noise, and looked out into the snow.  One of the animals, not as large as the ones in harness, was approaching.  Perched on its back, wrapped in white furs, was a form that he knew to be Revan.  He could barely make her out, until she pushed back her hood and smiled at him as she drew closer.  She was flushed and warm from some exertion.

"You're here!" she said joyfully.  She rode up to him, drew the beast to a standstill.  She held out a hand, and he pulled her down into his arms.  He could tell she was wearing a gown of some sort beneath her furs, but he couldn't see anything of it.  Revan kissed his cheek, and then suddenly, wrapped her arms around him, kissing him wildly and passionately.  Her eyes seemed to glitter with some unknown excitement.  "I was just thinking of you," she said sweetly.

Servants led the animal she had been riding away, and brought out heavy rugs.  Another servant brought out a new pair of boots for her, and took away the ones she had been wearing.  Malak noted that they were black and soaking wet, but the new ones were white and matched the wrap she was wearing.

"Well, Malak, would you like to play a game?" Revan asked with a curious smile.  Her eyes sparkled, as she watched him, drinking in the sight of her lover.

"A game, Master?"

She frowned slightly at that.  "It's called, Alek and Anastasia have a nice dinner."  She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, almost shyly.  "Not Master.  Not tonight."

Malak smiled.  "I think I would like that, very much."  He held out his hand to her, and she took it in hers, and smiled at him.

Revan laughed, a little nervously, then more joyously.  "Come!" She ran to the vehicle, and jumped in, gracefully and quickly.  Malak followed and sat beside her.  Servants ran up, and covered them with the rugs, and the driver took his place.  Revan nodded to the driver, and they took off.

Malak almost jumped in surprise at their speed.  The driver cracked a whip to spur the beasts on, never actually hitting them.  The noise of the whip and the harness bells were like parts of a song, and underneath it all, the sound of the snow beneath the runners.  Their speed made the snow flit away from them, and the heavy rugs and their fur cloaks kept out the worst of the cold.  He pulled Revan to him, and she snuggled happily into his arms.  He looked down at her, wondering if it was too cold for a kiss.  She looked up at the same time, smiling, and pulled him into a breathtaking kiss that drove away all thoughts of the cold.

And yet, under the fire, under her glitter, he could sense the darkness in her soul, curled up and waiting.

"What were you doing earlier?" he asked.

She smiled sweetly.  "Riding!  I should teach you, but you'll never become a really good rider.  You're too big!" She said it as a compliment, hungrily, greedily, devouring him with her eyes.  She reached up and kissed him again, fiery with barely hidden desire, bruising his lips with her passion.  Revan pulled away, sighed happily, and rested her head against his chest.

Malak wrapped his arms around her, and held her close to him as they raced across the snow.  They stopped outside a building, and servants helped them down from the vehicle.  Malak looked it over.  It appeared to be a sort of temple, and the Mandalorians that had been hiding on Behant had never been able to open the main doors, and had just camped outside for shelter.  There was no trace of them now.  The temple had been cleaned, restored, regilded.  Revan took his hand, and led him inside, followed by patiently waiting servants.

He watched as Revan's furs were pulled away, to reveal her gown.  The outer robe was made of some metallic material that sparkled like gold – he was certain that it was actually gold.  The dress reached to the floor, almost completely concealing her tiny feet, the hem weighed down with a wide border of tiny pearls and precious gems, as were the sleeves.  Beneath the outer robe, was an elegant white gown cut close to her body, that seemed to whisper softly with every movement, and perfectly showed off her shapely curves.  It too was bedecked with gems, and heavily embroidered with gold and silver thread.

"You are beautiful," he whispered softly.

For some reason, she hadn't been expecting the words, and blushed suddenly.  Revan laughed nervously, and held out her hands to him.  "Come, let us eat."

It had been years since they had sat down together to dine, alone.  Long years, filled with darkness and war.  Revan had ordered all their favorite foods, and Malak smiled to see everything from the dishes that he had loved as a child on his homeworld to a snack from an intergalactic bazaar that they had shared once on a spectacular summer night.  They ate, reminisced, laughed, while soft-footed servants came and went in silence, clearing away dishes and bringing new ones, filling their cups with sparkling wines and sweet liquors.

At last they rose from the table, and Revan led him to a large room, with comfortable recliners beneath a huge window that opened out to a hothouse garden beneath the stars.  Malak grinned, and sat down on the first recliner, watching Revan as she refilled her glass.

"Would you like another drink?" she asked.

Malak shook his head and set down the glass that he was holding.  "Come here, Anastasia.  Come sit with me."

She looked down, a sudden flush creeping up her face.  "In a moment," she sipped at her wine, nervous and uncertain.  "I want to talk to you, and if I sit next to you, I'll forget everything that I wanted to ask."

"Would that really be so bad?" he smiled.

Revan sighed.  "I… I want to.…" She almost turned in frustration and threw the glass at the wall, but forced herself to be still and quiet.  "Alek, I am not used to sharing affection.  I was treated as a goddess from the day I was born until I was handed over to the Jedi.  And the Jedi are supposed to be above things like love and jealousy.  But I'm not, Alek!  I'm not!  I can't – "

Malak surged to his feet and walked to the window, his shoulders stiff and anger showing in every line of his body.  "You already knew about it, and you know it's over.  Why are you bringing it up now?"

"You're mad at me for spying on you," she said, choking back a furious sob.  "What was I supposed to do?  Sit at home and wait patiently for your attentions?"

Malak laughed harshly to himself, then turned to face her.  "I just don't understand why it matters to you at all.  Do you seriously think I would care more for – well, anyone – do you really think that anyone in the universe is more important to me than you are?"

"Well, if they're not important, then why?" She choked back a sob.  "Why, Alek, why?  Is it me, am I –"

"No, Anastasia, it's not you," he sighed.  "It was foolish, a mistake.  I didn't think it would upset you so much.  You must know that you're the only person that matters to me."

"It's hard to know something like that when you're watching your lover fuck some slave girl and listening to him say that he loves her."  Her rage made her say the words, and she regretted them the instant they escaped.

Malak didn't say anything for a moment, but walked back to the couch and carefully sat down, trying to keep his fury under control.  "As I said," his voice was tight with anger, "it was a mistake.  I do not love her, and I shouldn't have said it.  I didn't mean to, and now I'm in trouble again for saying things I didn't mean to say."  He closed his eyes, trying to focus and pick his words carefully.  "She was – I've known her for a long time."

Revan choked back another angry, jealous sob.  "She's the one the Mandalorians would have tortured, if you hadn't been so noble and brave."

"Yes."  Malak looked down at the floor, at Revan's tiny feet, encased in glittering silver shoes, barely visible beneath her dress as she paced quickly up and down the room.  "Yes, she was.  You knew that, and you still....  Why now, why did you bring it up tonight?" He gestured, taking in their clothes, the entire room.  "Why, after all this?"

"Why?" her voice shook slightly.  "Because this is all I have!  I have wealth, I have power, and all of it means nothing, nothing!  Because all of it is nothing without you!" She realized that she was screaming, tried to calm herself.  Malak stood, rushed over to her, but she held out her hands to keep him away.  "No!  Let me finish!"

Malak ignored her protests, and pulled her into his arms, and she collapsed against him, sobbing furiously.  "Anastasia," he said gently, treasuring the sound of her name.  "You don't understand.  When I said it, I was thinking of you.  That's why I left her.  That's why I came back, and that's why I'm staying.  I love you, and I can't live without you.  You are everything to me.  Look at me," he urged.  She looked up at him, her face wet with tears and amazingly beautiful in her wild grief.  He whispered her name again, then kissed her again and again.

Finally she succeeded in pushing him away, but she still stood in his arms, cradled in his strength.  A few crystal tears still rolled her cheek but the tempest was over.  She laughed shakily.  "Did you...  did you say my name?  If you were thinking of me...."

Malak groaned.  "Almost."

"I should have kept watching," she laughed softly, through her tears.  "I would have enjoyed seeing that.  You deserved it!" She struck him playfully on the chest.

"I know," he said wryly.  "I'm sorry, Anastasia.  I didn't mean to hurt you," he said seriously.  "I'm sorry."

Revan looked up at him again, her tear-filled blue eyes wide and soft, nervous and yet thrilled by the passion in his voice.  He had said the words, he had come back to her, and though she still wanted more, this was enough.  She flung her arms around his neck, pulled him to her for a wild kiss, heard herself whispering the name she had given him, "My Alek, mine!"

He laughed, pleased at her possessiveness – it was easier to take than her fury.  He lifted her in his arms, still kissing her, and walked to a small door that he had noticed a few moments earlier.  As he suspected, it led to a bedroom.  Revan always planned for all possibilities.

Malak lay down on the bed with her in his arms, ran his hands over her body, lost himself in the sensual feel of the woven gold, warm from her body, the slick silk of her gown under his hands.  "Beautiful Anastasia," he murmured against her silken hair, and kissed her neck.  Her hands dig into his clothes, and she kissed his cheek, his eyes, his brow, whispering his name again and again.  The heavy golden overdress fell away and slid to the floor, as his hands moved over her body.  His jacket followed, and she undid the jeweled buttons at his throat, exposing his bare chest to her warm, loving hands.  She kissed the muscles there, making him growl with barely subdued passion.

"There is no one else in the galaxy that makes me feel like this, Alek.  Only you!"  Revan bent her head to his chest, kissed the warm pulse at his throat.  "The thought of losing you… I would go mad without you.  I don't know what I would do."

"It will never happen, Anastasia.  I will never leave you," he vowed.  He pulled her to him, pressed his lips against hers, "Never."  Malak ran his hands along the back of her dress, found the fastenings there and undid them, one by one, so that the silken gown slid away.  Revan sat up, and the dress fell away to reveal the final layer of underclothes, barely covering her body in frothy white and gold lace.  Malak's eyes widened at the sight, and he sat up slightly to get a better look.

Revan laughed lightly.  "I guess you approve."  A seductive smile played around her lips, and she reached up, pulling out the diamond-studded pins keeping her hair in place, and her golden hair fell in soft waves down her back and over her shapely breasts.

Malak rose to a sitting position, and pulled her back to him.  "You're so beautiful," he whispered hoarsely, his voice roughened with passion, and kissed her lips, her hair, then her breasts, marveling at the softness of her.  Revan wrapped her arms around Malak, rejoicing in her power over him.  He ran his tongue over her barely covered breasts, making her gasp, then pulled at the laces so that he could slide his hand beneath the tiny strip of cloth covering the center of her softness.  He worked a finger inside her while he continued to kiss her breasts, her body, anywhere his lips could reach.  She was wet and slick, and moaned hungrily at his touch.

She clutched at him, digging her nails into his shoulders as she worked herself on his hand.  Malak pulled his hand out, and quickly licked his fingers clean.  She laughed, then helped him pull off his jacket and shirt.  Revan caught his head in her hands, and pulled him to her for another wild kiss, whispering his name in wild passion.  "I want you, Alek!  I missed you so much," she whispered as she kissed him.

Malak looked at her again, her eyes dark with hunger, her face flushed.  He undid the laces and fastenings on her clothes, worked off his own clothes so that they were both naked together.  "I do like the look," he murmured, "but I would rather touch your skin."  He kissed her shoulders, and she opened herself to him as she kissed his face, caressed his arms.  He would have entered her slowly, teasing, but she was having none of it and took him inside her swiftly, screaming her satisfaction against his skin.

He let his passion rule him then, thrusting into her powerfully as she dug her nails into him, wrapped her legs around his waist.  She was hot and wet, more than a match for his driving passion.

Revan clung to him hungrily, begging Malak for more with every movement of her body.  She wanted to drown in this mad passion, this utter belonging.  But it was never enough, she always wanted more, and she couldn't tell if she was lacking, or he was.  All she knew was that she wanted him, she wanted this, imperfect as it was.  Someday, she promised herself, she would figure out what was missing.  But for today, she had Malak, all of him, all for herself.  She gasped, then screamed in ecstasy beneath him, holding him close before she sank back into the bed, dripping wet and spent from her passionate hunger.

Panting, Malak kissed her neck, then her breasts, then spread her legs so he could taste her.  She moaned in pleasure as his tongue lapped over swollen wetness, gently caressing her.  She shook, gasping softly, and her entire body quivered as he licked her clean, inside and out.  With a soft, helpless shudder, Revan faded into unconsciousness.

Malak rolled out of the bed, stood up.  Looked down at Revan as she slept, her face peaceful and sweet.  Shielding himself from the touch of her mind, he looked out at the stars, and wondered what would have happened if he had been a more selfish man.  If he had been fool enough to take the few moments of love that the other woman had offered, instead of sacrificing himself again – staying with Revan, standing between her, her power, her ambition – between Revan and the entire universe.  He had been telling the truth, in a way.  Just enough to allay Revan's madness.  He did love her, and he would never leave her.

Malak sank down to the floor, and sighed.  Sometimes, the Force asked too much.

"What are you thinking of?" she asked suddenly.

Malak smiled.  She woke quickly when she wanted to.  He wondered how much of his emotions she had picked up beyond the barrier in his mind.  "I was wondering what your alternate plan was.  How you were going to kill me, if I failed you."

She sat up, and pulled herself over to the side of the bed so that she could see him.  "If you had lied to me," she said softly, "I would have left you here to die.  Otherwise, I would have let you fight for your life."

Malak laughed in genuine amusement, disarming her suspicion.  "With what?"

She laughed as well, a slight edge of cruelty in her voice that she couldn't – or didn't – hide.  She pointed to the heavy golden overdress, and it rose from the floor at her mental command.  She pulled it open, to reveal two inner pockets, each holding a lightsaber.  His, that he had left so confidently in his room before going to meet her, and one of hers.

"Just the main one?  Your sense of fairness shames me," he grinned and kissed her cheek.  "I don't think I would have done as much."

Revan laughed again, sweetly this time.  "Are you done moping?"

"Mostly.  Are you done being angry?"

She kissed him, and smiled hungrily at him.  "Come back to bed."  She held out her hand to him, and drew his body over hers with a pleased sigh.

 

Malak was gone again, another recruiting mission.  Revan's guards were trying to avoid her wrath and ill-temper, but Revan was in no mood for their games.

"I requested a file an hour ago," said Revan tightly into the communicator.  "Where is it?"

"Your pardon, Lord Revan.  We are having, er, some trouble with the data.  In the file."

"Bring it here," she said coldly.  "Now."

"Yes, Lord Revan," said the guard sadly.  In a few short moments, he brought the recording to her, and waited to be dismissed.  Or killed, which was much more likely, when she became aware of the contents of the recording.

Revan rewound it, and watched the last few seconds.  She gasped, a small cry, half pain and half rage.  "You watched this."

The guard swallowed nervously.  "Yes, My Lord."

"You were not going to give this to me," she said flatly.

"My Lord, we considered it, but we thought that it would be best for you to know the truth."

She made another small, pained sound.  "Go, get out of here."

The guard fled before she could change her mind.  Revan pulled off the mask, and rewound the recording to the beginning.

The girl, beautiful despite the marks on her face defining her as a slave – or perhaps because of them.  Slim, soft, curved, more generous in shape than Revan, less muscled.  Her eyes, wide, innocent, and humble.  Pleading with him, kissing him.

Revan touched her lips in disgust, tried to rub away the taste on her lips.

"It's not too late, is it?  Please, don't leave me, don't go to her!  I can't follow you there, I won't!"

Revan's breast heaved, trembling with fury as she watched the girl.

"Please, Alek, before you leave me forever, please, one last time."

Revan screamed in pain and rage.  "No!  No, how could he?"

She listened to him explain, convincing her to go back and stay with her lover.  Of course, he said this after he had taken her, there on the floor, in the cabin of his ship.  The girl tried one more time to convince him to stay with her, offered herself up again, and he took her again, standing against the wall, and then refused and sent her away.

Revan sank to her knees, crushed by the pain.  She put her hands to her head and screamed out her suffering.

He had lied to her, and she had… no, she hadn't believed him.  If she had really believed him, she wouldn't have placed a new recording device on his ship before he left.  But she still couldn't believe that he had left her and run right to his lover.

"Why?" Revan sobbed.  "Why?  What have I done?" She covered her face with her hands and gave in to her misery, sobbing wildly and screaming.

The cornerstone of her wretchedness?  That she still loved him, that she still wanted him.  The crippling knowledge that she always would love him, want him.  But there was a limit to how much suffering she could endure.


	8. Storm and Fury

Revan stood on the bridge, and watched the planet below boil away under the sustained fire of the Sith fleet.  Her face was quiet and still.  The mask lay on the floor, by her feet.  She had cleared the entire bridge level of personnel through the simple expedient of having commanded her assassin droid to kill everyone else on this level.  Now that everyone was dead, she commanded it to keep everyone out – except for Malak.  Revan waited patiently.

The door to the bridge opened, and Malak stormed in.  "Revan, what is this?  I thought you were going to conquer Telos, not destroy it!"

"I changed my mind."  Revan didn't turn to face him.  The door closed, and she locked it from the terminal where she stood.

Malak looked around, carefully noting that the room had been rearranged recently.  The center of the room was now open.  Perfect for a fight.

"You seem to be forgetting your place, Malak."

Malak could see the fleet hammering the planet behind her, and the Misericordia's guns were focused on shooting down ships that were trying to flee.  "You've gone too far, Revan.  This is madness!  We could have used Telos to bolster our support among Republic worlds, but instead – "

"Instead I let my jealousy get the better of me to destroy an entire world just to kill one little slave girl, is that what you were going to say?  Save your breath, Malak.  She isn't even on the planet anymore, their ship made it through the blockade before the bombardment started."

"What?" Malak roared.  "Then why are you – "

"To punish you, Malak."  Revan turned, pushed back her hood.  Her face was set, her eyes cold.  "Do you see them dying, student?  Do you feel their screams, their suffering?  Their unending waves of grief as everything they know is torn away?" She smiled, a terrifying and heartless smile.  "Actually, Malak, I lied.  I'm not doing it to punish you at all.  I'm doing it because I can, and no one can stop me."

"I can," he snarled.  Malak drew his lightsaber.

She laughed scornfully.  "Pathetic."  Revan pulled out her main lightsaber.  "I'll handicap myself," she said sweetly.  The unique violet beam of her saber shone against the view of the destruction of Telos in the background.

"Don't underestimate me," growled Malak.  "I'm strong enough to defeat you, Revan."

"Strength, Malak?" She leapt, closing the distance between them in a heartbeat.  "What does strength matter to the Force?" She blocked his attacks with lightning speed, shrugged off his attempts to hit her with bolts of Dark energy.  "Or are you hoping that the Force will support you because your cause is just?  Your goal noble and pure?" She kicked him in the side, forcing him back.  "Idiot."

"Your jealousy has driven you mad, Revan!" He glanced at the planet below.  "Stop this, Revan!  You can't kill all these people just because you're hurt!"

"No?" asked Revan with a laugh.  "Then stop me, Malak.  It's a good strategy for our little war, regardless of the real reason.  Fear drives submission faster than love, wouldn't you agree?"

Malak charged again, using every ounce of skill and strength he possessed in a desperate effort to break through her guard.

"You've been slacking in your practice.  Blame that on your tart," she said as her lightsaber ripped open his upper arm.  She drew back, and let him heal himself.

"Don't patronize me, Revan.  Fight like you mean it!"

"You're forgetting your place again, Malak.  You don't get to command me."  She blocked his attack, then used the Force to effortlessly fling him across the room.  "Are you forgetting what drives the Sith, Malak?" She crossed the room in a heartbeat, standing over him as he lay prone on the floor.  She used the Force to pluck his lightsaber from his hand before he could react and tossed it back across the open area in the center of the room.  "You never answered my first questions, Malak.  Are you feeling their pain, their suffering?" Her lightsaber was poised at his throat, ready to kill.

"Yes, Revan, I can feel it.  How could I not feel it?  Their entire world is crying out in pain, begging for help!"

Rage lit up her eyes, ice-blue fire, a tempest of emotions behind her façade of stillness.  "And yet, you cannot understand that it is nothing, nothing compared to what I feel.  You are the wellspring of my power, Malak.  I desire you more than anything else in the galaxy, even the power of the Star Forge."  The blade in her hand trembled slightly, proving the truth of her words.  "But you… do you even understand how badly you have hurt me?  Do you even care?"

"Of course I care, Revan!  I'm sorry, it was a mistake.  Please, Revan, stop this!"

She hissed, the anguish in her soul almost unbearable.  "You kissed me, while her taint was still on your lips.  How dare you!"

"Revan," he said warningly.

"You lied!  You're still lying!  It hurts you when I scorn her, even though you know she left with another man!  She's a whore, Malak!"

"I sent her away," he said tightly.  "I wanted her to be safe and away from you."

Revan smiled cruelly.  "Well, that worked well."  She raised her blade and walked away from Malak, her robes swirling gracefully as she walked.  "So she's safe, and millions of innocent lives have to pay for your transgressions."  Revan waved a hand at the screen, and the shattered remains of Telos.  "And that just leaves us, doesn't it?" She deactivated her lightsaber and stood, watching the planet, the smoke and ruins.  "Where does that leave us, Malak?"

Malak stood, furious and ashamed.  "You let her go, didn't you?  Just so you could blame this on me?"

Revan didn't turn to face him.  "I wouldn't soil my ship's guns by firing on such filth."  Revan smiled to herself as she heard him grab his lightsaber, and rush to attack her one more time.  She turned, her timing flawless and her aim impeccable, and neatly shaved off half his jaw with her off-hand lightsaber.

Malak dropped to the floor, twitching in agony.

"You kissed me with those lips," said Revan quietly, her rage cold and sharp.  "Never again."  She walked up to him, and stared, trying to forget how much he meant to her so that she could strike the final blow.  "Malak!  Why… how can I love you so much, and yet, you feel nothing for me?" Revan screamed in fury.  "It means nothing to you!  I mean nothing!  If the memory of our love means so little, then I will take it back!  Everything, all of it!"

Revan reached out through the bond between them, and began to rip out every memory that he had of their love.  He was helpless to resist at first, blinded by the agonizing pain of his wound, but some part of him realized what she was doing and tried to fight it.  In the end, Revan was stronger, and her skill greater.  It seemed to take hours, but in reality it was only a few minutes that he lay bleeding while she ravaged his mind.  Every single thought he'd ever had of her, every single moment that they had ever shared, was gone as if it had never been and yet, everything else was untouched.  Revan destroyed the original Force bond between them, leaving only the simple bond of Master and student.  She stared at him as he lay there, bleeding and still.

She could do nothing now.  Revan replaced the mask.  "It is a pity that you could not remember I am your Master," she said sadly, and walked away to get medical attention for him.  "It is a pity I could not remember that you are just a man."

It was almost a month later before she saw him again.  The prosthetic jaw, disfiguring and ugly.  His voice, mutilated by the electronics.  And she still loved him.  But he felt nothing for her now, and never would again.  She had reshaped the entire universe to make sure of that.

"Master," Malak knelt.  "I hope you have forgiven me for whatever I did to make you angry when last we met."

"You don't remember our fight?" said Revan curiously.

Malak shook his head.  "No, Master, my memory seems to have been affected.  I have been having trouble remembering things.  I don't remember our fight at all."

"Ah," said Revan quietly.  She hadn't considered that possibility.  Still, it didn't matter.  He would think what she wanted him to think, fill in the missing gaps of his memory from the world she had left for him.  "You challenged me for leadership of the Sith," she said harshly.  "You killed my bridge crew.  Thanks to your incompetent takeover attempt, I have to deal with half-trained nitwits."  The lies rolled easily off her tongue.

"I'll do a better job next time, Master," he promised dryly.

"Well, you certainly couldn't do worse," Revan snapped.  "Do you have Karath's reports?"

"Yes, Master."  Malak rose, and handed Revan the Admiral's messages and status reports.  "Master?"

"What?" Revan continued reading the reports and didn't look at him.

"Master, did you do something to my memories?" Malak asked uncertainly.

"If I did, I had a good reason, so I'm not going to undo it.  If I didn't, then there's nothing you can do about it.  Stop asking."  Revan walked away, sat down at her desk and began entering numbers.  "Bring up the galaxy map, Malak.  We have work to do."

Malak noted that Revan hadn't answered the question, but knew better than to pursue it.  Ever since he had woken up in the medical bay, the sense of wrongness, of something lost had gnawed at him, and it was driving him mad.  He couldn't remember what was missing, he couldn't even think of what it could be, he just knew that something was gone.  It was something small, something simple.  No one had any idea what it was, no one knew if anything was different about him besides the obvious damage to his face.  No one knew why he had suddenly ordered the destruction of Telos and then challenged Revan.

Malak returned to his own ship after meeting with Revan.  This too, was unfamiliar.  The Leviathan.  A beautiful ship.  Powerful, but nothing personal about it.  A basic copy of the Misericordia, unchanged from the shipyard specifications, with none of Revan's ornate luxuries.  He didn't remember having it made, or getting a loyal crew.  His pride burned at Revan's contempt in letting him keep it even after he had failed to kill him – he stopped for a moment, confused suddenly.

Everyone spoke of Revan as a male, but that was wrong.  There was a woman beneath that mask, a slight wisp of a thing.  "No one wants to see a tiny blonde girl at the head of an army," he remembered that, and a vague outline of her face, but nothing more.  It was unimportant, he knew, and she was right.  The fleet respected Revan as a symbol of war and genius.  The mask was an essential part of Revan.  He hadn't seen her without the mask in years, he suspected.  He couldn't really remember.

Malak growled.  He suspected Revan was trying to make him insane through this useless search for a forgotten memory that he couldn't let go.  If only he had something to go on, some idea of what it was he couldn't remember.  If he could only put a name to – a name.  Someone's name.  Why would Revan strip the memory of someone's name from him?  Was the name important?  He paced the room in frustration.

The door opened, and a slave entered, knelt submissively by the door.  She was a very soft and beautiful slave, with long, dark hair.  Malak had checked the records, and for some reason, he had stocked the Leviathan with lovely female slaves, every single one completely broken in spirit.  He felt slightly disgusted with himself, and yet, they were there and he was a man.  And a Sith.

"What do you want?" he snarled, impatient with himself and his weakness.

"We wish to know when you would like your meal, my Lord."

Malak sighed.  Meal.  A useless word for a miserable serving of nutrient paste.  Still, it wasn't her fault he was missing his jaw.  No, that was Revan's doing, and he would get his revenge for it someday.  "Bring the meal in an hour," he commanded gruffly.

"Yes, my Lord."  The slave rose to take the message.

"Wait."

"My Lord?" her voice trembled in fear.

"Bring the meal in an hour," he repeated.  "You, come back in fifteen minutes."

She knelt in patient submission.  "Yes, my Lord."

Malak woke later that evening, to find the slave girl riding him, her head thrown back in wanton pleasure, her dark brown hair unbound, falling in ripples to barely cover her well-shaped breasts.  This one and the red-haired one often woke him this way.  Malak placed his hands on her hips, steadying her so she could thrust harder.  She braced herself on his chest, and her hips flashed back and forth, taking him deeper and harder.  She whimpered slightly, and her hands dug into his skin as her orgasm built.  He slammed her hips down, and held her in place, grinding his cock into her as he came, and she screamed in ecstasy, shuddering, slumped down to his chest.

Malak put one arm around the girl, and watched her as she rested.  The lights were dim in the room, and he could only make out the basic features of her face.

"You are a Mandalorian?"

"Mandalore is no more, my Lord," she answered softly.

"True.  You were all Mandalorian?  All the slaves, I mean.  You all look the same," he mused.

"We were chosen for that reason, my Lord," she smiled shyly.

"And you like it here?"

"Until there is a Mandalore again, my Lord, there is nowhere better."

Malak ran his hands over her body, idly tracing the outline of her curves and her muscles.  He slid his fingers into her wetness, and she moaned in pleasure, burying her head in his chest, gripping his shoulders.  He worked another finger into her, listened to her cries of pleasure.  He moved his hand faster, and she dug her fingers into his muscles, tried to hold back animal screams of pleasure.  She came on his hand, quivering, with choked little shrieks.  He pulled his hand out of her, and rolled her off him.

"Get out," he said harshly.

"Forgive me, my Lord," she gasped, as humbly as she could with the aftershocks of orgasm still rippling through her body.  "Did I displease you?"

"No," he said angrily.  "I want to taste you, and I can't.  Now get out, before I lose my temper."

She wrapped a cloth around her nudity, and fled with a choked sob.


	9. A Thousand Words, A Thousand Lies

Coruscant was a beautiful world, and it seemed to know that.  Everyone who lived there was happy, even in the midst of a terrible war.  The sunsets were perfect, the weather temperate and the air sweet.  The whole world balanced itself, embraced by the Force and the natural order of the galaxy.

It seemed impossible that two Sith Lords could even exist on Coruscant, let alone be sneaking around the bustling marketplace trying not to attract any attention.

"This is foolish, Revan," Malak whispered as loudly as he dared.

Revan laughed.  In a world of Jedi and politicians, populated with aliens everywhere, it didn't stand out too much that two people with deep hoods were walking slowly through the marketplace.  "Stop talking before someone notices you."

Malak mentally gritted his teeth.  He was wearing a deep hood and a different prosthetic, but mainly, his disguise was that no one would expect to see a Sith Lord on Coruscant.  Revan's disguise consisted of nothing more than taking off the mask.  Malak had a question about that, but he couldn't ask her until they were back on the smuggler's ship.  Even the smuggler didn't know who his passengers really were.

A traitor, in exchange for safety and a promise of power, had let them into the Jedi Archives unseen.  Revan had spent a few hours searching, and had come away with copies of two old journals.  Malak was here because he suspected what Revan was really after.  There were rumors of an extraordinarily gifted Padawan, one with the ability to inspire entire armies.  A rare talent, and one that would explain how the Republic had held out so long.

Malak suspected that Revan wanted to learn how to use it herself.

They were making their way back to the ship, trying to avoid notice.  Or at least, Malak was.  Revan was shopping.  He'd given up trying to calculate how much she had already spent.

"Alek?" A soft voice, a whisper, a hand laid on his arm.  "It is you!  What – what are you doing here?" she asked fearfully.

Malak sighed, and pulled his arm away.  "Research."

"A friend of yours?" asked Revan curiously.

"Someone I knew once."  Malak looked over the woman, as if seeing her for the first time.  The shape was wrong, somehow, as if his eyes had been expecting to see something else.  "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," she said nervously.  She looked around.  "You shouldn't be here, Alek.  You've changed, you've changed so much."

Malak shrugged.  For some reason, he couldn't feel that he had ever loved her.  She was beautiful, yes.  Lovely, even.  But he knew that she belonged to someone else now, and he couldn't bring himself to care about her anymore.  "Things change," he said calmly.  "Don't worry, you're in no danger.  As I said, I'm here to do research.  Nothing more."

She stared at him, seeking the truth in his eyes.

"Are you going to turn me in?" he asked calmly.  He knew she wouldn't.  The lack of love was not mutual, he realized.

She shook her head.  "Please leave, Alek, before someone else recognizes you."  Unspoken, the name of her lover.  Husband, by now, probably.  Another Jedi, not a fallen one.

Malak looked her over again, and wondered what had changed.  He remembered everything about her, he just didn't care.  He shrugged it off, and nodded to Revan.  Walked away without another word, even as he felt her eyes on him, following him as he walked out of her life again.

Revan paid for her purchase and followed Malak out of the marketplace.  "I hope that doesn't happen every time I take you to a planet.  How many of those do you have?"

"Enough, Revan."

Revan giggled, a strange sound to hear from a Sith Lord.  "She loves you, you should have taken her with you.  Spare some of your slaves the overtime."

"She does not love me, Revan.  She married someone else."

"Oh, is that all?" Revan laughed scornfully.  "Kill him and take her for yourself."

"She chose someone else," Malak said again.  "I am no longer interested."

"Oh," Revan pondered.  "So if she had chosen you, you would have…what?  Left the Sith?  Settled down on Coruscant?  I can see you as a politician," Revan mused.

"No."

"Hm?  Not a politician?  Serving in the military, then?"

"Enough, Revan," said Malak wearily.  "She chose someone else, and I did not love her enough to pursue her."

Revan stopped suddenly to buy a bag of ripe, juicy fruit native to Dantooine.  "Oh, I love these!" she purred.  "Ah, I forgot.  You can't… never mind."  She peeled one, and popped it into her mouth.

Malak did not answer.  He was thinking, trying to hunt down an elusive scrap of memory.  A voice.  A name.  Something that did matter to him, even as the sight of a past lover did not.  Something that he wanted, more than he wanted anything else, even without knowing what it was.

They made it back to ship without running into anyone else who knew Malak from his earlier days, and Malak wondered again at the fact that no one besides him knew what Revan looked like at all.  And even he barely knew, he realized.  Without thinking, he followed her on the ship, and walked into the room she had appropriated as her own quarters right behind her.

Revan undid her belt and began to slip off her robe.  Malak pulled it away from her, revealing her form, clad only in a light tunic and tight leggings beneath.

"Malak!  What are you doing?" Revan demanded.  She grabbed her robe back from him.

Malak eyed her carefully, trying to ignore the clothes and see the shape beneath.  "Your hair is the wrong color."  He touched the long braid of reddish-brown hair.  "You've dyed it."

"Do you have a point, Malak?  Besides angering me?"

He looked at her again.  "You could be any of them."

Revan didn't answer immediately, but put her robe back on and tied it securely.  "I have no idea what you are talking about, Malak.  Explain yourself."

"What are you playing at, Revan?  What do you want from me?" He knew that she was lying.  He just didn't understand why, and it was maddening.

"You're being more insane than usual, Malak.  Does this have something to do with your little woman?"

"No," he snapped.  "This has to do with you, impersonating the slaves on my ship."

"What?" Revan stared at him in shock.  "Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Don't make me check your arms for bruises, Revan.  They all have the same shape as you.  The same hair.  Only the color is different."

"Malak, I don't know whether to be flattered or disgusted that you would think that I would even contemplate such a thing."  Revan sneered.  "You're being ridiculous.  Not every woman in the galaxy lusts after you, Malak, despite all the evidence to the contrary."

"The name, Revan.  Tell me the name."

"What?  This again, Malak?  Really?" Revan sighed.  "It's not worth your time, Malak.  Why do you keep punishing yourself?  Stop chasing after this lost memory.  Let it go."

"How can I?" he asked desperately.  "You did this to me, Revan.  You know the torture you are inflicting on me.  Every time I think I can give up this fight, you do something to reopen the wound.  Why?" Malak stepped forward, closer to her.  "Why are you doing this to me?"

Revan drew back.  "Don't you dare touch me, Malak!  I am not a woman for you to play with, I am a Sith Lord and your Master!" Her fury was unfeigned, and Malak held still.

He glared at her.  All his senses told him she was lying, that the soft, slender form before him had been in his bed more than once.  He knew that she had somehow engineered the meeting with the woman from his past.  At that moment, he hated Revan more than he ever had before.  "Very well, Master.  Play your little game," he snarled.  "One day you will push me too far, Master."

Revan laughed.  "Anytime you want to try challenging me again, Malak, you will be welcome.  How about now?"

Malak shook his head.  "If I challenge you, Master, it will be of a time and place of my own choosing."

"Pity.  HK, put that down."

Malak turned, and flinched at the sight of the assassin droid's gun barrel pointed directly at his skull.

"Observation: Master, the organic meatbag has violated the distance protocol.  Suggestion: Shall I kill him now?"

"No, let him go."

"Query: You're certain, Master?  Recommendation: I could make him scream a little, or remove some more non-essential parts.  Observation: He has plenty to spare."

Malak growled.

Revan laughed.  "No, well, perhaps a bit of screaming is in order.  He's gotten a bit above himself lately."

Malak moved, but the droid was faster and the only place to retreat was into Revan's personal space.  The droid's foot shot out, and slammed into Malak, right between the legs.

Revan burst out laughing as Malak dropped to the floor, groaning.  "Well done!" She stepped carefully around him.  "Out, HK.  Leave him alone for now."

"Affirmative, Master.  Warning: The meatbag will seek revenge."

"Good," smiled Revan, "it will give him something else to think about."


	10. Palimpsest

Patience Keçrye.  That was her name, or at least that's what everyone called her.  It seemed to fit, and she certainly couldn't think of anything else that she should be called.  And yet, somehow, the name didn't seem to belong to her.  Nothing did.  She didn't seem to belong here.

Battle wounds, the doctors said.  They had promised that she would recover in time, that she would remember that she belonged here.  In the meantime, work and keeping to her regular schedule would help.  So here she was, lying in her bunk, waiting for her shift to start.

The ship rocked.  They were under attack.  Patience leapt out of bed as someone entered the room.  It was Trask, her bunkmate, and he was slightly panicked.  Patience could barely follow everything he was saying.

Someone needed saving, she got that much from his panicked words.  Sith had boarded the ship.  She smiled at his fear.  They were just soldiers, like any other.  They could be beaten.

Their communicators beeped, and Carth Onasi spoke, warning everyone and commanding them to the bridge.  For a moment, Patience couldn't process the words, only hear the sound of his voice.  She'd never heard anything like it before.  Patience idly wondered if little hearts were floating over her head.

Trask broke in on her reverie, and she realized she still wasn't wearing her armor or her weapons.  She ran to the footlocker, and geared up.  She pulled out the standard issue blaster with some confusion.  Was this really her weapon?  There was a sword, but no off-hand weapon.  That didn't seem right.

Trask kept talking, going on about meleeing with Sith, and energy shields, and Patience wanted to shake him and tell him to grow a spine.  They left the room, and encountered a pair of Sith.  Patience used the blaster, and winced at how foolish it felt.  There was no elegance, no skill, in such a fight.  It was clumsy, slow, stupid.  She checked the Sith after they had fallen, and pulled a well-balanced blade from one of the bodies.  She tested it, swung it experimentally.

"Uh… you know, it takes a lot of practice to use two swords like that, and those Sith soldiers train in dueling all the time.  You might just want to stick to the blaster."

Patience ignored Trask's whining, and set the blaster pistol aside.  They turned a corner, and saw three more Sith.  Patience smiled, and entered the fight.  This she knew, this was familiar to her.  The swords in her hands sang, and she whirled, striking quickly and surely, blocking their blows as if the Sith soldiers were moving in slow motion.

Trask stared in surprise as she cut down the Sith soldiers.  At the bridge, he made a choice.  Clearly, it was more valuable to the Republic that someone with her skills made it off the ship to help find Bastila.

"Go!"

Patience tried to argue, but Trask wouldn't listen and sent her to go find Carth and Bastila.

Carth brought up the camera and watched the last soldier make her way to the escape pods.  His jaw dropped when he saw Patience fight.  He'd heard stories about her, seen the notes on her service records, but he'd never seen her fight.  He'd never seen anyone fight like that.  Not brutal, like a Mandalorian or a Sith.  Her form flowed, her stance was strangely fluid.  It was almost as if she was dancing with the swords in her hands.  She was small, too, barely regulation height, slender and lithe.  Carth shook his head.  Who was this Patience Keçrye, anyway?  Where had she learned to fight like that?

Patience took down the last Sith and ran into the pod bay.

"You made it," said Carth.

Patience just stared at him, her head spinning with mad visions of an impossible future.  A little farmhold on a distant world, a baby on her hip and a little boy running in the grass.  Their father, Carth, standing before her.  Her husband, Carth, her friend, her lover.

"Are you all right?" he asked.  "We should get out of here as soon as possible."

Patience nodded, sheathed her swords, and entered the escape pod with him.

The pod launched roughly.  "They're firing at us," said Carth grimly.

Patience smiled to herself.  Well, if her crazy dream wasn't going to come true, dying in a blaze of glory with Carth at her side didn't sound too bad.  Carth was watching her curiously, and she couldn't help giggling.  This was all too crazy to explain.  A woman who could barely remember her own homeworld having visions of a future with a man she had just met.  "Sorry," she said, "just thinking crazy thoughts."

"Uh huh."

Patience looked around.  There was nothing to see, the pod was completely self-contained, and was rocketing towards the surface of the planet below.  The pod had only the most basic evasion routines, and they had no manual controls, or even a viewscreen.  She couldn't see anything.  And yet, she couldn't stop herself from moving, pulling Carth from his seat, shoving him to the floor.  The explosion knocked her from her feet and she slammed into the far wall, slid unconscious to the floor.


	11. Wild Again

Patience stepped back from the Twi'lek dancer, sweating from her exertions, and listened to her thanks as the promoter told her that they had passed the audition.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?"

She shrugged, suddenly embarrassed as she realized that Carth had watched the entire performance.  "Doesn't everyone know how to dance?"

"Not like that," grinned Carth.

Patience smiled back, "I could give you a few lessons, if you like."  She swayed seductively, mocking him.

Carth laughed, then stepped up to her, slipped an arm around her waist.  "Okay.  Go ahead."

Patience looked at him in surprise, and they smiled at each other.  "All right," she laughed.  To her surprise, Carth didn't need any lessons, and matched her steps perfectly.  Patience laughed in surprise, then in genuine joy.  She put her arms around his neck, and they danced together, smiling and laughing, for the rest of the song.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Patience looked at him, wondering, hoping he wouldn't bring up her past again.

"Why do you dye your hair?"

"Oh, are my roots showing?" she touched her head nervously.

Carth laughed at her, shook his head.  "No, I noticed it when you were unconscious, after the crash."

"Oh."  She sighed in relief.  "I do it to make myself look older.  I know, most women want to look younger.  I don't.  I'm already too short for anyone to take me seriously.  Dark hair makes you look more authoritative."

"I would have thought the two swords made you look authoritative enough."

"You would think so, but no, it doesn't."

"You would look a lot prettier with your natural hair color."

"That's the problem!  I look too pretty.  By the Maker, that sounds conceited.  But it's true."

Carth threw back his head and laughed.  "You're quite a woman, Patience Keçrye."  He smiled down at her.  "You know, I'm glad you're here.  We just might make it out of this okay."

"You know, coming from you, that's quite the vote of confidence."

Carth grinned at her.  "Okay, enough fooling around.  Let's meet up with the Hidden Beks, and see about this swoop race and rescuing Bastila."

"Okay, let's go."  They walked out of the cantina, and started back towards the gang's hideout.  She glanced at his profile, somber and dark again.  "What?"

Carth grinned, half-heartedly.  "Am I thinking too loud again?"

"Yes.  I can feel the distrust rolling off you."

"I'm just thinking about the whole memory loss thing, it's really… odd."

"Do you want to see the scar?  It's right at the back of my head.  Look!" Patience started to undo her ponytail.

"No, that's okay, I believe you, it's just… I'm sorry, I'm just not very good at accepting coincidences.  Not anymore."

Patience didn't respond.  She didn't like to hear Carth so bitter and angry.  She liked it better when he laughed.  "You didn't compliment my dancing.  For that matter, you didn't pay me for the lesson!" She waggled her finger in his face.  "I see what this is about!  You're just trying to distract me from what you owe me!"

Stunned, Carth stared at her, then realized what she was doing, and chuckled.  "Fine, just put it on my tab."

"Don't think I'll forget, mister."

Carth laughed quietly.  "Come on."  They entered the base.

Carth didn't trust her, and she couldn't blame him for it.  He was right, this whole thing – her memory loss, the crash, the lost Jedi – it was odd.  Hopefully, the Jedi Bastila would be able to help, and explain who Patience was, what she was doing here, why the Jedi Council had sent her on the Endar Spire in the first place.  The Hidden Beks explained their plan for winning the swoop race with the experimental accelerator that Carth and Patience had recovered for them.

"You want us to do what?" Carth exclaimed.

"Look, I can't put one of my racers on this bike.  It might blow up," said Gadon, the leader of the Hidden Beks.

"Oh, but it's okay to make us do it!"

But it seemed the only way to save the Jedi was to win the swoop race.

"I'll do it," Patience offered.

"What?"

"Have you ever raced a swoop bike before?" asked Gadon.

Patience shrugged.  "Does it matter?  All I have to do is not fall off, right?"

"Have you lost your mind?" Carth demanded.

"Yes," Patience grinned.  "Didn't we just talk about this?  Do you want to check the scar again, or something?"

Carth tried to glare at her, but ended up laughing.  "All right, you win.  You'll probably be fine.  Just don't push it," he warned.  "Let one of the Hidden Beks win, and try to keep out of everyone else's way."

Patience nodded.

"Did you hear anything I just said?" asked Carth in irritation.

"Oh, yes, of course.  Only," she frowned, "you didn't mention anything about how good I would look on a bike, or anything about how sexy I am, or – "

"Okay, let's just go."

"Nothing about a box of chocolates and some flowers for all my hard work, or any jewelry, or – okay, stop pushing me, I'm going!" She grinned at Carth, and followed the Hidden Beks to the racing compound.

Patience looked over the bike again.  Strange, unfamiliar, and yet… she ran a hand over the lines of the bike.  It was built for speed.  It looked dangerous.  She looked at the track, curving sinuously into the distance, then back at the bike.  It looked like fun.

"Are you ready?" asked the Ithorian mechanic.

Patience nodded, and got on the bike.  She looked down at herself, then out at the crowd.  A sea of faces, cheering, shouting, and the only one she could make out was Carth, frowning.  Concerned for her safety, racing on an experimental second-hand bike that could blow up at any second.  She smiled at him and waved, even though she knew he couldn't see her under the helmet, but she saw him relax, as if he somehow knew that she was trying to reassure him.

At least I look good in these racing leathers, she thought to herself, so if I die, I'll leave a sexy corpse.  Patience started the bike, and waited for the starter signal to leap forward.

The wind whipped past her, challenging her.  There were other racers on the field, but they didn't matter now.  It was only Patience, and the wind.  She slipped past the other bikes, taking the curves as fast as she dared the first time, then faster and faster.  The wind sang to her, dared her to push her limits and break them.  The bike hummed beneath her, the experimental accelerator clicking solidly as she flew past the other riders.  The machine responded to her trust, promised to hang on as long as she would keep going.

She laughed, wild and joyous as she sped around the track, dodging the other bikes, the debris scattered here and there.  No, she had never done this before but now she wanted to.  She hoped there would be more races she could try, more competitors she could beat.  The final lap started, and Patience left the other racers in her exhaust.  She was more than a full length ahead of the next rider.  With a wild cry of joy, she ran the bike in for the finish, and heard the crowd go wild at her success.

Patience pulled off the borrowed helmet, and stepped off the bike, with the help of the Hidden Beks' mechanic.  She patted the bike gratefully, and walked up to the organizer to collect Bastila and the other prizes.  She collected her weapons and armor, and geared up again while Brejik, the rival gang leader, gave the speech where Patience was acknowledged as the winner.

"But because the winner cheated," Brejik snarled suddenly, "I'm going to withdraw my share of the prize!"

"What?" snapped Patience.

The race organizer protested, but Brejik brushed his complaints aside.  "I know you cheated!" he shouted at Patience.  "And I'm not giving her up."

Patience looked over at the cage where Bastila was locked up.  The Jedi looked half-dazed, but seemed to waking up a bit.  "I didn't cheat, you jerk!"

"Yes, you did!  Do you think I didn't know about the accelerator?  You stole it from our base, after all!"

Patience glared at the gang leader.  "Okay, so how did you know about the accelerator, then?  And what was it doing at your base anyway?" She gestured angrily at the bike.  "Go ahead and check the bike, you gizka!  I didn't cheat!"

Brejik stared at her in surprise, unable to tell if she was bluffing or not.  While he hesitated, Bastila suddenly seemed to awake.

"If it's all right with both of you, I'll just be going now."  Bastila opened the cage and stepped out.

"What?" Brejik shouted, "I had a neural suppressor on you.  That door was locked!  How did you get out?"

"It fell off," said Bastila sharply.  "Now, as I said – "

"Stop her!" Brejik shouted, and the Black Vulkars drew their weapons.

"Here!" Patience kicked one of the gang members, disabling him and grabbed his blade, tossed it to the Jedi.

"Who are you?" Bastila demanded as she caught the sword.

"I'm here with Carth Onasi!  We came to rescue you!" Patience drew her swords, and drove back two of the attacking gang.

Carth jumped over the railing, and blasted a Black Vulkar who was trying to shoot Bastila in the back.  The other companions they had picked up, the Twi'lek girl, Mission Vao and the Wookiee, Zaalbar, were covering the entrance.

Bastila cut down two more Black Vulkars, and then she joined Patience, who was facing down Brejik.  Together, the two women beat down his guard and broke through his shields.  Brejik fell finally, fighting to the last, just as Carth made it to them.

"Come on, we have to get out of here!" Carth pointed towards the exit, where the Hidden Beks were having a running fight with every other gang on Taris.

"Wait!" Bastila searched Brejik's body, and pulled out a long metal rod.  "Finally."

"Is that your lightsaber?" asked Carth curiously.  "How did you – "

"I dropped it," snapped Bastila sharply.  "Let's get out of here, quickly."

"You dropped your lightsaber?" said Patience in disbelief.  "How?"

"I couldn't find it after the crash," Bastila blushed.  "It must have rolled under a seat, or something.  Can we please discuss this later?  This is hardly the place."

Carth and Patience looked at each other, and tried not to laugh at the Jedi's embarrassment.


	12. Lover's Moon

Patience gunned down the last Sith fighter.  The Ebon Hawk blasted into hyperspace as Taris burned.  Patience climbed down from the turret and Carth nearly ran her over.

"Hey!"

"Sorry," said Carth, his voice strange and tight.

Patience watched him walk back to the cabin he had chosen for himself.  Destroying worlds must be a Sith thing, she thought to herself.  First his homeworld of Telos IV, and now Taris.  She sighed, and walked after him.

"Carth?" Patience peered into the pilot's cabin.  There were no lights except the dim reflection of the guide lights on the floor and walls.  She could barely see him, but knew that he was standing by the porthole, staring out into the blackness of space.

"Yeah, what is it?" he said harshly.

"Are you okay?" Patience took a tentative step into the room.

"I'm fine."

"You don't look fine.  Not that I can see anything in the dark.  It's just… you don't look fine, that's all."

Carth rubbed at his eyes.  "What do I have to do to make you go away?" he asked angrily.

"You could just say, 'It's okay, Patience, I'm not all torn up inside from watching Taris get destroyed.  I don't need a shoulder to cry on or anything.' If you say something like that, I'll go away."

Carth choked back a sob.  "By the Maker, why?  Why would anyone do that?  Just to kill one woman… I hope she's worth it.  By all the powers, she better be worth it."  Carth bowed his head, and felt Patience brush away his tears.  He pulled her close, burying one hand in her soft hair, hiding his face against hers.

She felt him shaking, trying to hold back his grief and rage.  Patience put her arms around him, and held him gently.  Said nothing, just held him close.

Her presence, her shape, her … patience.  Everything about her just seemed to soothe, and Carth felt the worst of his misery burn away at her touch.  He relaxed into her arms, her comforting strength.

"Thank you," said Carth finally.  He brushed away the moisture from his face before he pulled away and looked at her.

Patience smiled gently at him, then reached up and kissed him on the cheek.  "You'll feel better, I promise."

He smiled back at her, thoughtful.  "I think I'll get some rest now."

"Sure thing."  Patience waved to him, and left his cabin.

 

"Someone with as much raw talent and sensitivity to the Force as you possess must be brought before the notice of the Council," Bastila insisted.  "We must go to Dantooine."

"I have no problem with going to wherever so we can drop you off, but this nonsense about me and these stupid visions – "

"They are not stupid," said Bastila sharply.  "This is an amazing opportunity for us."

"No, it isn't!" Patience glared at the Jedi.  "For you, it might be.  For me, it's a nightmare.  I don't want to get into the minds of the Sith.  I'm not a leader.  I'm just a soldier, and I am definitely not a Jedi."

Bastila stared at her curiously.  "Most people would be pleased to discover that they had such power, such potential.  And you would reject it?"

"They can have it," Patience scoffed.

"Unfortunately," said Bastila, "it isn't our choice.  The Force has chosen you, for some reason, and bound us together, with these… visions… of ours.  Until we can figure out what it means, we must stay together.  And we must follow the will of the Force."

"That is so stupid."

"It is not!  The Force guides us, and you would do well to consider what is really behind your reluctance to acknowledge the power and wisdom in giving you, of all people, these visions."

Patience mentally threw up her hands, and left the bridge.  Were all Jedi so intolerable, she wondered to herself.  She heard someone walking behind her, and turned.

"Carth!"

He smiled at her.  "Are you okay?  Sorry about Bastila, I'm guessing she's still a little rough around the edges.  Most Jedi only ever talk to other Jedi."

"With good reason," Patience grinned.  "But, I'll live.  I'm still not sure about this whole idea of being 'Force-sensitive,' whatever that even means."

Carth looked a little more seriously at her.  "Well, if the Jedi Council says you have to be trained, then… it's important that people who can use the Force be trained properly, you know."

"I know, but," she frowned, "shouldn't someone have noticed this by now?" She sagged back against the wall.  "This makes no sense."

"Well, have you ever met a Jedi in person?"

Patience thought about it.  "I can't remember," she confessed.

Carth laughed.  "Then you haven't.  Trust me, you remember every Jedi you ever meet."  He grinned down at her.  "Come on," he gestured behind her, "let's sit down if you want to talk."

Patience looked behind her, and realized that she was leaning against the door to his room.  "Oh, sure."

The room was still dark, and slightly cooler than the rest of the ship.  She looked around curiously.

"Why is it so dark?"

"I kind of like it," Carth admitted.  "Makes it easier to fall asleep.  But I think the lights are broken or something.  "

"Oh, do you want me to see if I can fix it?" She reached for the panel, just behind his head, before she realized what she was doing.  "Oh!" She froze from nervousness, from being so close to him.  She overbalanced, tumbled into his arms, before she could catch herself.  "Um… sorry."

Carth put his arms around her waist.  "Not a problem, I guess."  He smiled at her, and leaned back against the wall with Patience still in his arms.

Patience tried not to laugh.  "Right, sorry, I didn't – I mean, we could totally kiss if we wanted to, right?" She straightened herself, but didn't pull away from his arms.

"What?"

She blinked.  "I said that last part out loud, didn't I?" She blushed bright red, and wished her tongue would stop listening to the crazy part of her brain.

Carth laughed before she could apologize.  "It's true, we are both adults.  So, yeah, if we wanted to.  We could."

Patience sighed in relief at finding that he wasn't angry or offended.  It was so easy for her to flirt and laugh with Carth.  It felt like she had been doing this her entire life.  "Of course.  We don't even have to do anything else.  We could just kiss.  Like friends.  Do friends kiss?"

"Sometimes."  Carth looked at her, trying to see where she was trying to get to.

"I'd kiss you, if you were my friend," she said brightly.

"Heh."

"So… are we friends, Carth?"

For an answer, he pulled her close, pulled off the ribbon holding her ponytail in place, letting her hair spill over his hands before he brought his lips to hers.

"This doesn't mean anything," Carth pointed out, his voice soft and warm.

"No, of course not," she agreed, slightly breathless.

"We're just bored.  And friends," he added.

"Yes," she smiled in agreement, and pulled his head to her for another kiss.

Bastila, her face cold and angry, walked through the dining area, heading back to the bridge without saying a word to any of the other crew members.

"Hey, are you okay?" Mission asked, but the Jedi didn't seem to hear her.

Zaalbar growled something, and then laughed, holding out a giant paw to keep Mission from following Bastila.

"What do you mean, she's too slow?" said Mission, confused.

Canderous looked up curiously, and looked around.  "Ha!" The Mandalorian laughed, and then went back to his drink without saying anything more.

"Huh?" Mission looked around as well.  "I don't get it, what are you guys laughing about?" she asked impatiently.

Zaalbar refused to answer and Canderous didn't bother.

Mission got up, to go see what Patience was doing, and maybe ask her.  Suddenly, Mission looked around again.  Patience wasn't at the table, and neither was Carth.  "Oh!" She looked at Zaalbar, who chuckled again.

"I see you figured it out," grinned Canderous.  "Let this be a lesson to you, girl.  A woman who waits for a man is a woman who will always wait for a man."

Mission glared at him.  "Don't you try and indoctrinate me with your crazy Mando'ade teachings, old guy."

"What's the matter?  You don't want to learn how to fight like a warrior, and love where you chose to?"

Mission flushed, and Canderous sipped his drink again, waiting for her to reply.

"Mandalorians respect their women.  We don't let them wait at home for a hero to save them," he said harshly.  "We teach them to fight for themselves, and glory in their strength."

Mission knew he was making a point about her brother, and stiffened.  She glanced at Zaalbar.

The Wookiee shrugged, and growled sheepishly.

Mission's eyes watered, and she fled to her room.

The Mandalorian raised an eyebrow.  "Did you just agree with me?" he asked Zaalbar.

The Wookiee nodded.

"Huh."  Canderous finished his drink and returned to the ship's garage to finish working on the swoop bike.

Carth was still kissing her, and Patience couldn't think of anything except how wonderful it was.  His hands were tangled in her hair, his body was lean and warm and strong, his lips claimed hers, possessed them as surely and completely as if she had been made for his taking.

Carth finally pulled away from the heady intoxication of her kisses.  "I should… piloting.  Dock.  Entering system, things like that.  You know."

"Oh, right," Patience agreed, and they moved away from each other.  She couldn't take her eyes off him yet, she just wanted to keep staring at him, and yes, go on kissing him forever.  Carth was looking at her too, thinking much the same things.  After a few heartbeats of gazing, lovingly and hungrily, at each other, suddenly Patience bounced forward and kissed him on the cheek before running out of the cabin.

Carth laughed in stunned surprise, and touched the spot where her warm, soft lips had touched him.  He heard her laugh in the hallway.

"Get to work, flyboy!" she yelled as loudly as she dared, then laughed again and went down to the garage, where the swoop bike was.

Canderous looked up as she entered.  "Done already?"

Patience blushed.  "We didn't do anything.  Much."

"Planning to finish later?"

"So, how's the bike?  Think we'll find anywhere to race?"

Canderous chuckled at her.  "The bike is fine.  Still can't believe you risked our lives to steal a bike."

Patience grinned.  "It's a really nice bike!  How did Davik get it from the Hidden Beks anyway?"

"Probably paid for it.  That's how Davik and the Exchange work," the Mandalorian said grimly.  "Everything has a price.  They specialize in finding it."

"Well, not everything," said Patience gently.

Canderous grunted, but didn't debate the point.  "So, we're going to Dantooine?  You're going to become a Jedi?"

Patience laughed.  "Don't be ridiculous!  Bastila just needs to get some stuff out of my head.  I'll fight when I need to, but I'm no Jedi.  I'm not interested in being some great hero.  I'd rather settle down on a farm somewhere, and have a couple of babies."

"Wise woman," Canderous grunted.

"Yeah, can we go back to talking about the bike instead of babies?" she blushed.

Canderous looked around quickly.  "You pissed off that Jedi, by the way.  Not sure if she had her eyes on the flyboy, or whether she just wants you to stay celibate, or what."

"What?" Patience frowned.  "I'm not – ugh, I'll go talk to her, get it over with."

"Really?" The Mandalorian raised an eyebrow.  "That's pretty bold," he said admiringly.  "Are you scared of anything?"

She laughed lightly.  "I'm sure I am, I just don't remember what it is!" Patience sighed.  "Well, I am scared of one thing, but it's stupid."

Canderous looked at her in surprise.

"I hate these visions that I'm sharing with Bastila.  It's not what I see that scares me, it's the taste of the Sith minds.  The hatred, the hunger for power.  How could anyone live that way?" Patience asked angrily.  "What's the point?  I hate the way it makes me feel," she shuddered.  "I hate touching their minds."

"Are you afraid of the Dark Side?" he asked curiously.

"No," said Patience uncertainly.  "And that's what scares me."


	13. Forbidden, Forgotten

"I am very sorry, Carth, but it can't be."

"I know," said Carth harshly.  "It was just a nice dream."  Carth smiled.  "Crazy and impossible, but nice."

"It is unfortunate, and really, I don't want to do this.  But there are many reasons, even without the possibility that she will become a Jedi, why this cannot be."  said Bastila gently.  She glanced back to make sure no one else was approaching the cockpit.

"And I don't even get an explanation, do I?  Just warned off and told it's a Jedi thing."

Bastila sighed.  "There are complications, it has to do with her past.  I'm sorry, but I can't say any more.  You can't have spent that much time together.  When did you become interested in her, anyway?"

"After she saved my life," Carth snapped.  "Look, you said it has to end, why are you still asking me about this?" The idea that Bastila thought time would matter made him want to laugh.  Or slap her, he wasn't sure which would make him feel better about being ordered to break off his budding relationship with Patience.

"She saved your life?  When?"

Carth sighed.  "On the escape pod.  The pod got hit by something, space debris I think, and the wall behind my seat practically caved in.  If she hadn't knocked me out of the seat before it hit, I would have been about six inches shorter.  And a lot quieter."

"Oh."  Bastila considered.  "Wait, she got you out of the way before it hit?"

Carth nodded.  "Yes.  Don't ask me anymore, because I don't know."

Bastila stared at him.  "Let me see your hand for a moment."

"What?"

"Just give me your hand, please."

Carth held out his hand to Bastila, and she held his hand in both of hers, concentrating.

"You have a strong connection to the Force," Bastila commented.  "Not exactly a sensitive."

"More like 'sensitized,' if that means anything," Carth replied.  "My … wife, she and I were both too weak with the Force to be trained.  But our son would have been sent to the Jedi.  If he had lived."  Carth pulled his hand away and stared out, into the emptiness of space.  "Are you done?  Can we stop talking about this now?"

"Yes.  I apologize, Carth."  Bastila rose and walked out of the cockpit, leaving Carth to his thoughts, and wrapped in her own.  What her senses were telling her was impossible, and yet, she knew it to be true.  Bastila stood in the medical bay, her arms crossed, lost in thought.  She had no idea what to do.  This situation – this woman, Patience – was completely beyond her training.  She could only tell the Jedi Council, and let their wisdom guide her.

They landed at Dantooine, and Bastila escorted Patience to meet with the Jedi Council.

"I can't even do any shopping first?"

"You can shop after you meet with the Council," said Bastila sharply.  "Come on, stop dawdling."

Patience sighed, and followed Bastila into the central chamber of the Jedi Enclave.  Bastila hadn't left Patience and Carth alone for days, and Carth had been half-heartedly avoiding her.  She didn't want to be here, she wanted to go talk to him.  Or play pazaak with Mission.  Or tease the Wookie.  Anything but stand here, in this obnoxiously tranquil enclave.  "I bet there isn't even a track here."

"What?" said Bastila sharply.

"Nothing."  She trailed a little behind Bastila, and almost lost her in the odd layout of the hallways.

"Why aren't you wearing your robes?" someone snapped.

Patience stopped in surprise, and turned.  "What?  I'm not a Jedi.  Who are you?"

"My name is Belaya," said a tall Jedi.  "I apologize, I didn't recognize you and thought… are you certain you're not a Jedi?  Did you come here for training?" The Jedi sounded slightly confused.

Before she could answer, Bastila came back.  "There you are, what are you doing?  Ah, greetings, Belaya."  She bowed to the other Jedi, who bowed in return.  "I'm sorry, but I can't stay and talk.  I must bring her before the Council.  Please, excuse us."

"Of course," said Belaya.  "I won't take up any more of your time."  She bowed again, and walked away as Bastila took hold of Patience, and led her down the hall.

The Jedi Council discussed her as if she wasn't even there, and then finally decided that Patience would have to submit to Jedi training for her own safety.  "And now to this other matter," said one of the Council calmly, the small wizened green Jedi, Master Vandar.  "Tell us about this man, Carth."

That vision flashed in her head again: a pretty world, two moons in the sky, stalks of grain blowing in the wind.  A baby on her hip, playing with her necklace; a little boy chasing a bright red animal down the lane.  Carth, a little older, calling after the child – their son – and laughing at her – his wife, his friend, his lover.

"Interesting," murmured Master Vandar.  "I do not sense any dangerous passion in you.  You are remarkably balanced."

"Tell me, young woman," asked the Twi'lek, Master Lestin.  "What would you do if Carth left you for another?"

"What?  Well, I guess, if it was his own choice, I would be sad.  Quietly.  You know.  Well, maybe you don't.  I mean – "

The Council members laughed in gentle amusement as Patience fumbled over her explanation.

"It's quite all right," said the archivist, Master Dorak.  "Your reaction – your acceptance – is very unusual."  The Jedi looked at each other.  "Please, tell us what you saw just now."

"How do you know I saw anything?" she asked in confusion.

"The Force flows very strongly through you.  When we mentioned Carth, it seemed to shine through you for a moment."

She blinked in confusion.  "You can...  never mind.  It's a world, with two moons.  A farm world, there's a huge tract of grain or something nearby.  There's a boy – our boy – running around, chasing something.  Carth is trying to call him back, but I'm distracting him, teasing him, and, um, holding our baby."

"Two children?" asked Master Vandar.  "Interesting."

Patience really wished he would stop saying that.

"Please, excuse us for a moment," said Master Lestin.

Bastila led her to a bench on the other side of the room, then returned to the Council to continue the discussion.  Patience watched them talk, and daydreamed about racing.  Someone came in and asked her if she would like to have a meal, or take a rest.  She looked over at the Council, and realized they wanted to speak without her present.  She opted for the meal, and was led to a table where Mission and Zaalbar were already seated and stuffing their faces.

"Wow, I can't believe Zaalbar likes this.  There's no meat or anything."

Zaalbar growled that the food was plentiful and filling, even without meat, and that he preferred to hunt his own meat, if it came to that.  And then he went back to eating.

Patience laughed, and sat down.  "Wholesome and plain.  I can feel the goodness wafting from the table."

"This whole place is like that!" Mission grinned.  "Canderous refused to come in.  He went to the equipment shop and said he'd keep an eye on the ship."

"Awww, poor guy.  Did he get some food?"

"Yeah, they sent over a basket of food for him."

"Oh, good."  Patience munched on a loaf of freshly baked bread.  "Where's Carth?"

"Oh, some Jedi just came and took him away, said he needs to talk to the Council."

Carth walked slowly into the Council chamber.  It was not an elaborate hall, just a large circular room with some old men sitting on plain chairs.  They gestured him towards a large, plain yet comfortable chair set in front of them, so they were all facing each other.  Carth sat down nervously.

"Please, relax, Captain Onassi.  We just have a few questions."

"Captain?  There must be some mistake."

The Jedi laughed.  "No mistakes.  You are a hero.  We reported your rescue to the Republic."

The other Jedi smiled at Carth's confusion.  "Rescuing Bastila Shan would be reason enough for anyone to be promoted, Captain Onassi, but you were long overdue for recognition of your efforts during the Mandalorian conflict."

"But I didn't do anything!" Carth protested.  "It was all Patience, she's the one who led the rescue.  Not me."

"Interesting," said Master Vandar.  "Patience insisted that she couldn't have done any of this without your help."

Carth blushed.  "She's exaggerating, believe me."

"Please, tell us more about Patience.  We are curious to know more about the person that she is now."

Carth wondered what they meant by that.  He told the story of her escape from the wreck of the Endar Spire, their adventures on Taris, how they had saved Zaalbar from slavers and their escape from the destruction of Taris in the stolen Ebon Hawk.

"We've changed the registration of the Ebon Hawk to her name, by the way," commented Master Dorak.  "And we have you as the ship's captain."

"Oh."  Carth was confused.

"We may have to send your group on a mission," explained Master Vandar, which of course, was no explanation at all.

"Bastila remarked that you and Patience seemed to have an attraction to each other," said Master Lestin calmly.

Carth tried not to blush, and failed.  "Um… yeah.  She's a really wonderful woman.  If she wasn't going to be in the Jedi Order, I would have … I don't know."

"You are not concerned by her lack of memory?"

"Well, of course I am," said Carth.  "I want her to be whole, for herself."

The Jedi Masters looked at each other, without speaking.

"What if you learned that she had been involved with someone else, in the past?  Someone powerful and evil, that she needed to be protected from?"

"I think it would be more likely that they need to be protected from her when she remembers about it," said Carth dryly.  "She doesn't have much tolerance for people like that."

"So we've noticed," said Master Vandar.  "But you didn't answer the question."

"Honestly, I think the only person she needs protecting from is herself.  She instinctively shies away from dark thoughts, but I can't tell if she's really facing the darkness or just ignoring it."

The wizened little Jedi Master nodded in understanding.  "You would try to keep her on the path of the light?  No matter the cost to yourself?"

Carth closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember his wife's face, but all he could remember was a small, warm hand on his face, brushing away the pain.  "I would do what has to be done," he said softly.

"And if you were going to get married and settle down, where would you go?" asked the last Master, who had not yet spoken.

Carth looked up in surprise.  "What?  Well, probably Noraa."

"Noraa.  A core world," commented Master Vrook.  "Two moons, if I remember correctly?  And a large agricultural base?"

"Interesting," said Master Vandar again.  "It seems that the Force is trying to bring the two of you together.  We ask only that you seriously consider your actions if you choose to pursue any further relationship with Patience."

Carth stared at the little Jedi Master.  "Wait, you mean – you want me to?"

The Jedi Masters nodded as one.

"It is not for us to interfere," said Master Lestin.  "You must do as you are guided."

 

"This trial… are you certain that you are ready for it?" asked Master Lestin.

Patience looked up at her teacher in surprise.  "Well, yes, but if you think that I'm not, then I'll wait."

The Twi'lek shook his head slowly.  "I am not certain that this rushing is best for you.  And yet," he mused to himself, "there is no time."

"I'm pretty sure the Force didn't bring me all this way just to fail," Patience grinned.  "So, what's the trial?"

"There are three tests," said Master Lestin.  "How you pass them is as important as whether you pass them or not."

"How very Jedi," observed Patience.  "So what's the first one?" she asked again.

"First, you must prove that you know the Code of the Jedi."

Patience raised an eyebrow.  "How do I do that?"

"Well, you will sit with your Master and another Master and we will ask you about it."

"Right."  Patience looked around.

"Did you want to do that now?" asked Master Lestin uncertainly.

"Why not?"

The Twi'lek sighed.  "Come."  He led her back into the central room of the Enclave.  The only Master there was Vandar.

Patience winced inwardly.

"Greetings, Zhar.  And what have we here?" The little green alien looked curiously at Patience, and she bowed politely.

"My student wishes to take her first trial."

"Ah, most interesting."

Patience sighed.  She was becoming convinced that he was doing it on purpose just to annoy her.

"Please, be seated."  Master Vandar gestured towards a chair, but Patience decided to kneel comfortably on the floor instead so that she could feel the planet beneath her.  Both of the Jedi nodded approvingly at her.  Master Vandar sat on his stool, and Master Lestin sat on his chair, facing her.

Master Lestin met her eyes, saw the calmness there.  "Recite the Code of the Jedi."

"There is no emotion, there is peace.  There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."  Her beautiful voice, calm and serene, filled the room, as she unconsciously pitched her voice so that everyone in the chamber could hear her.  "There is no passion, there is serenity.  There is no chaos, there is harmony.  There is no death, there is the Force."

"And what do these words mean to you?" asked Master Vandar.

Patience smiled a little.  "It is not just the choices you make that matter, it is the reason behind the choice that separates a Jedi from a Sith.  A Jedi and a Sith might both be seen cutting down a man with a lightsaber.  But a Jedi does it to keep the peace, to save a life.  A Jedi does not act out of anger or fear."

Master Lestin nodded slowly.  "And do you follow this code?"

Patience smiled again.  "Well, I certainly try to.  But sometimes, I do feel emotions.  And I am very ignorant," she confessed.  "But I am learning.  And I try not to let my emotions rule me," she sighed.  "I do not fear death.  I know that I will not be released before my work is done."

Master Vandar watched her speak, and nodded at the ring of truth in her voice.  "You have taught your student well, Master Lestin."

A soft murmur of voices made Patience turn her head, and she realized that the seats in the amphitheatre were full.  She flushed as she realized that Carth was staring at her in wonder, and Mission's eyes were wide with admiration.  She quickly turned back to the two Masters, and wondered how she hadn't noticed the audience.  Master Vandar chuckled softly.

Master Lestin stood and beckoned her to follow.  "You have passed the first trial, now it is time for the second."

Patience shook her head, and followed Master Lestin back to the classroom.  "What is the second trial?"

"For the second trial, you must build your own lightsaber."  He gestured towards the workbench in the room.

Patience glanced at the workbench.  "There's no crystal," she noted.

Master Lestin smiled, a little sadly.  "You learn too quickly, student.  You must get your crystal from Master Dorak.  But first, you must assemble the base.  I would tell you how it works, but you seem to know already."

"I watched you the other day," she explained.  "And I'm just good with machines, I guess."  The construction of a lightsaber was actually quite simple, for Patience.  The parts only fit together one way, after all.  She quickly assembled the quintessential tool of the Jedi, based on her glimpses of the other Jedi who had been at the workbench in the past few days, and her own intuition.  Her fingers seemed to know instinctively where to line up the wires, where to place the lenses, how to insert the power cells.  She fit everything into the housing and stood back to survey her work.

"Bring it here," said Master Lestin.

She carried it over to him, and he examined the setup that she had created.  He nodded, and handed it back to her without speaking.

"Should I bring it to Master Dorak now?"

He nodded.

"Is something wrong, Master Lestin?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head.  "No, I must meditate.  Thank you for your concern, Patience."

A little confused, she went back to the main hall to find Master Dorak.  He was standing next to Master Vandar.  "Hello, Master Dorak."

"Ah, a new lightsaber."  She handed him the housing, and he examined her work.  "I see you've gone for power rather than accuracy."

"I don't miss that much," she explained.

"So you're planning to be out in front, I take it?  Not guiding from behind?"

"Me?  I lead from the front," she laughed.  "Besides, I want to make sure I'm the focus of attention," she grinned.

"Because you don't want your friends to get hurt," Master Dorak observed gently.

Patience blushed.  "Well, yeah.  Isn't that my job?  To protect them?"

He placed a bright blue crystal into the blade.  "It is, if you're willing to be a Guardian."  He handed her the completed lightsaber.  "And I think that you are.  Take this to Master Lestin, and he will prepare you for your final trial."

Patience carefully accepted it, and walked back to the training room.  Master Lestin was standing in the center of the room, waiting.  He looked calmer, more relaxed.  "You look better, Master Lestin."

The Twi'lek Master smiled.  "I have decided to emulate you, and accept joyfully that which I cannot change."

Patience blinked in surprise, then laughed aloud.  "Well, I'm glad I could help.  Here," she held out her lightsaber.  "Master Dorak gave me a crystal!"

"A Guardian," Master Lestin murmured.  "Obvious, and appropriate."  He smiled at her.  "Come, let us practice working with your new lightsaber."

Patience couldn't sleep at first, when she went to bed that night.  All this was so oddly easy for her.  Not that she had ever done it before, it felt more that she had always been doing this.  That her hands had just been waiting all this time for a lightsaber.  That she had always been part of this strange, quiet part of the world behind the world.  And yet, there was something missing.  Something besides an off-hand lightsaber.  And something was still wrong with her lightsaber, but she couldn't think of what it was.  She would have to take it apart later and figure it out.

The room was quiet and dark, and she could hear Bastila and Mission sleeping on their beds, across the room.  Patience sat up, and crossed her legs beneath her.  She rested her hands on her knees, unconsciously assuming a meditative position.  She thought of everything she could remember, then nothing at all, then let her imagination wander through the stars, not really sure what she was looking for or thinking of.  For a moment, she just let herself think of the grandness and wonder of the universe, of all the life within it, all the struggles, all the joys.  Where was her place in this, she asked herself.  Did she have one?  Somewhere out there was a Sith Lord, bent on destroying the Republic, and she was going to be part of stopping him.  Was that her place?  Was that why she was here?  Or was there something more?  What was behind the Sith Lord?  What had turned Revan and Malak against the Republic and the Jedi?  What had given them their powers?  What darkness lay at the edge of the galaxy, where two heroes had ventured and returned as monsters?

She knew all these things were important, and that they had to be dealt with.  But she knew deep inside that none of these great and grand things were really why she was here, sitting up, searching the universe instead of sleeping.  No, her question was much smaller and simpler, and much more important.  Where was the world with two moons, and farms, and tiny red animals that a little boy could chase?  She smiled to herself at the memory of her imagined future, and let herself replay the vision in her mind again, basking in the warmth and happiness of it.

The sense of peace and happiness stayed with her all the next day, as she left the Enclave for her final trial.  She was supposed to be doing something about a Dark presence in an ancient grove somewhere in the region.  Carth and Bastila went with her, and she was actually quite grateful for their company, if not for their teasing.

"South is this way," said Bastila again.

"Right."  Patience turned away from the flowers and walked in the direction that Bastila indicated.  "Oh!  Look, is that a daisy?"

Carth grinned, and helped her gather a handful.  "You're really bad at this.  So where are we going again?"

"Um…" Patience looked around.  "I was hoping you knew."  She made a crown from the daisies and offered it to Bastila.  "Here!"

"Thank you," said Bastila dryly.  "Shall we be going now?"  They walked for a few minutes before Patience wandered off again.

"Oh, what a nice tree!"  She looked up at the strong, thickly covered branches, and resisted an irrational urge to hug the tree.

Carth took a look at the tree, jumped to grab one of the lower branches, and pulled himself up.

"Oh, not you too!" exclaimed Bastila.  "Get down from there!"

"I'm scouting," Carth explained, but reached down to help Patience climb up.  "There's someone over there," he pointed towards the south.

Bastila leapt gracefully into the upper branches, next to Carth.  "That's the grove.  Whoever it is, they're just sitting there."  She adjusted her daisy crown to make sure it wouldn't fall off.  "I guess we should go find out what is going on."  Bastila jumped, floating gracefully down to the ground.

Carth climbed down, jumping the last few feet and landing heavily.  He dusted off his legs and looked up to see if Patience needed any help, but she was hanging upside down from a branch, and still looking at the grove.

"She's a Cathar."

"Who?" Bastila asked.

"The person in the grove.  She's very angry about something."

"You sensed it as well?"  Bastila looked curiously at Patience.  "You do learn fast.  Now get down from there, and we'll go talk to her."

"You need to lighten up," Patience advised.  She sat up, then did a backwards flip out of the tree, landing neatly on the ground next to Carth.  "Okay, let's go."  She didn't wander this time, she wanted to talk to the angry Cathar.

She was not expecting the Cathar to attack them, and certainly not that her first attack would be to freeze Bastila and Carth in some kind of stasis field.  Patience fought off the Cathar's wild attacks.  She didn't want to kill her, and ended up knocking the Cathar unconscious with a well-placed blow.

"Um… hello?"  Patience gently shook the Cathar's shoulders to wake her up.  The Cathar stirred, and Patience stepped away in case she tried to attack again.  The Cathar sat up, and looked around in confusion, then saw Patience watching her curiously.

"Go ahead, strike me down," the Cathar raged.  "I have fallen to the Dark Side, and you have defeated me."

"But… you're not a Dark Jedi."

"What?  Yes I am!  Look at what I've done to your friends.  Look at all the harm I have caused here."

"You locked them in a stasis field.  They're not being hurt, and they'll be fine in a few minutes."  Patience looked around.  "As for the animals here going crazy, someone needs to clean this place up.  I bet some of those weeds there are poisonous or something.  They look poisonous.  And they smell awful."

The Cathar stared at her in disbelief.  "I tried to kill you.  And you are just ignoring me?"

"No, you didn't," said Patience in confusion.  "You swung a lightsaber at me a few times.  Not the same thing at all."

"Are you mocking me?" she hissed.  "You don't think some filthy Cathar can be a real Jedi, is that it?"

"No, I just don't believe you're really evil.  At all.  Hurt and confused, maybe.  But not evil.  Come on back to the Jedi Enclave, and you can tell me why you're upset."  Patience shut off her lightsaber.  "You're Juhani, right?"

"Yes, my name is Juhani, human!  And I am not going back.  You think all this can be fixed so easily?"  Tears sparkled in the pretty Cathar's eyes.

"Pleased to meet you.  My name is Patience," she said, refusing to be baited by Juhani's anger.  "Why don't you want to go back?"

"I can never go back," shrieked the Cathar in fury.  "I struck down my Master!  I can never be forgiven!"

"That's nonsense.  First of all," she explained, "if you had really killed a Jedi, they wouldn't have sent a new student out to talk to you.  Second of all, the Jedi forgive everybody.  They're kind of stupid that way.  You can go back anytime you want to.  You just have to want to."

Juhani burst into tears.  "No, it can't be that easy!  I have to be punished for what I have done."

Patience pulled her into a friendly hug.  "Oh, don't cry like that, you'll make yourself sick.  Here."  She took off her jacket and wrapped it around Juhani's shoulders.  "Come on, let's head back."  The stasis field wore off, and Bastila and Carth walked up to them.

Juhani sobbed.  "I'm sorry, I don't know what else to say."  She continued sobbing, and Bastila shook her head, then put her arms around Juhani as well.  Carth sighed, and they all walked back to the Jedi Enclave.

Patience was heading to the workshop, after the Masters had taken Juhani to calm her down, when someone stopped her.

"You're still not wearing your robes," Belaya noted.

"What?  Oh," Patience blushed.  "They just don't seem right, that's all."

"But you are a true Jedi, now.  You should honor the order that you serve so well."

"Huh?  I don't – I'm just a Padawan, Belaya.  I haven't done anything yet."

Belaya smiled at her.  "You saved the life of one we thought was lost forever.  Surely you think that is important?"

Patience grinned nervously.  "Well, yeah, but what else was I supposed to do?"

Belaya was silent for a moment.  "You are right," she agreed finally.  "You don't need to wear the robes.  No one would ever mistake you for anything other than a Jedi, no matter what you wear."


	14. Strength to Dream

"Care for a few rounds of strike pazaak?" Canderous held up a bag of chocolates in front of Mission.  "I have some markers you might be interested in."

"Oooh!"  Mission jumped up.  "Let me get my deck."  She ran to her quarters.

"What's strike pazaak?" Patience asked.

The Mandalorian grinned.  "It's like regular pazaak, except instead of money you play for strikes and markers.  It started as a way for crime lords to hand out assassinations, but it got spread by mercs with no credits who still wanted to earn a place to sleep."

"Are you playing strike pazaak?" called Carth from the cockpit.

"You in, flyboy?" Canderous shouted back.

"Only if Patience is playing.  I've got a few good ones written up."

Canderous grinned at her.  "You in?"

"What's a strike?"

"A strike is a kind of an IOU.  Usually a job or something that the holder wants done.  Since none of us want anyone assassinated, it will be probably be something like cooking dinner or sexual favors."

Patience stared at him, speechless.  He was completely serious, she realized.

"The pot starts with a strike from each player and a set amount of markers, and at the end of each round, winner takes the pot.  In order to take a strike off the table or change the holder, you have to pay in its value with markers.  Otherwise, the winner takes your strike and can redeem it later."  He held up the bag of chocolates, branded with the name of a famous bakery on Coruscant.  "For markers, I usually pay women in chocolate.  But hey, if you want to walk off with a few of my strikes, that's okay too."

"Did you say chocolate?" asked Juhani, and Canderous grinned.

"Works every time."

Juhani looked nervously at the group as they gathered, and moved closer to Patience.  Mission walked back into the main cabin.  "Are you playing too?  Go get your deck!"  She pulled up the chairs, and began programming the console.  "I'll get the table ready."

Patience sighed and pulled out her deck, and took a seat at the table.  Juhani sat next to her.

"You'll need to make up some strikes for the pot," said Carth, shuffling his deck as he walked up to the table.  He pulled out a few unstamped credit-style chits and handed them to Patience and Juhani.  "How much are we starting with?"

"For markers, I'd say ten pieces of chocolate," answered Canderous, "against two strikes?  Does that sound good?"

Patience turned over one of the markers that Carth had tossed into the pot.  "So you're saying one session of oral sex is worth five pieces of chocolate?"

Carth grinned.  "I'll be honest with you.  I don't really like chocolate."  He handed a sample piece to Juhani.

Patience shook her head in mock disgust, and checked some of the other markers in the pot.  Behind her back, Carth gestured to Juhani, and held up another piece as a bribe.

Juhani tasted the candy, and smiled in delight.  "These are really good," she said.  She looked at Carth again, and used her claws to carefully slice apart the ribbon holding Patience's ponytail.

"What are you – " Patience turned, and the severed ribbon fell to the floor, freeing her hair to curl and spill over her shoulders.  "Juhani!"

Carth handed the Cathar a handful of chocolates, as did Canderous.  Juhani laughed shyly, and offered a piece to Patience.

Patience flushed under the stares of the two men, and ate the chocolate.  "Oh."  The sensual taste of genuine chocolate melted her anger away.  "These are good."

"Worth every penny," muttered Canderous, and Carth nodded in agreement.

Zaalbar growled, and brought over a case of Ebla beer.  "He says one beer is ten chocolates," translated Mission.

"He could have said twenty," grinned Carth, and paid Zaalbar for two beers, handing one to Juhani, and Zaalbar tossed his chocolate into the pot.

"No, the Corellian whiskey is twenty," said Mission, "but he's not selling that until all the beer is gone."  She traded two markers to Zaalbar in exchange for a beer of her own.

Patience stared at Carth.  "Why did you buy Juhani a beer?"

Carth smiled at her.  "Insurance."

Canderous laughed, and bought his own beer, shaking his head.

Juhani shyly offered Patience a sip of her beer.

"Thank you," said Patience, and brushed her hair out of her face, tucking the wayward curls behind her ear.  "Great, now I have to make more ribbons.  What is wrong with you, anyway?"

Carth grinned, and didn't answer.

Mission looked at her curiously.

"He keeps stealing them," Patience explained.  "I didn't have that many to start with."  She nibbled on another chocolate, trying to decide what to offer as her strikes, and trying to ignore Canderous, who was trying to convince Juhani to do something else to Patience.

The little utility droid buzzed up to the table, curious to know what the humans were doing.

Canderous shook his head at the T3 unit.  "I can't believe Janice used an old memory core for that droid."

"It's not old!" protested Patience.  "The core is brand new!  I checked when I was fixing the damage from the Sith base."  She finally gave up, and tossed in copies of two random chits that were already in the pot, under her own name.

"It can't be.  Brand new droids don't have personality quirks."  Canderous started the game, and Mission grinned in excitement.

"He doesn't have any personality quirks!" said Patience defensively.  "He's just got very sophisticated programming.  Don't you, T3?"

The droid burbled in answer, then beeped and spun around in a circle.

"Okay, that's a personality quirk if I ever saw one."

"Oh, just ignore the mean old man," said Patience, and handed a datapad with the rules of Pazaak and its variants to T3.  "I like you just the way you are," she said, gently patting the little utility droid.

The droid beeped back at her, and there really wasn't any way to describe the beeping other than 'happy.'

"Hey," said Carth, "get your own."  The droid turned and looked at Carth.  "Yeah, you heard me.  This one's mine.  Buzz off!"  Carth ignored the droid's protests, and frowned at Mission, who had just won the second set in a row.

Canderous looked at Carth, then at Patience.  "You do know that the more you treat it like that, the faster its personality will develop?  You're going to end up corrupting its programming."  The Mandalorian took another sip of his beer.  "Also, I'm not old."

Patience laughed, and T3 zipped away.  "Oh, he'll be fine.  You worry too much."

"Some people say droids don't have souls," said Mission, updating the score on the table.  "I think they should meet T3."

Zaalbar growled.

"You deserved it!" snapped Patience.  "He isn't broken, and he doesn't need a memory wipe.  Leave him alone."

"What?" Canderous asked.

"T3 shocked Zaalbar when he tried to wipe the little guy's memory," Mission explained.  "It was pretty funny."

Canderous frowned.  "That's not funny!  That's dangerous!  Developing that kind of behavior on its own – "

"I put that in there," Patience explained.  "I know what it feels like to lose your memory, and I wouldn't wish that on anyone.  Not even a droid."  She handed Juhani another chocolate, and tried to remember how many cards she had already played.

"Droids don't have feelings," Canderous insisted.

"No one would feel if you wiped out their entire past every time they did something you didn't like," said Patience bitterly.  "Leave T3 alone."  She won the set, but Carth was still in the lead.

"Is she always this crazy?" Canderous asked Carth, who had just won the final set.

"Sexy, isn't it?"  Carth grinned and pulled in the pot.  "Let's see what we have in here."  He filtered through the chits, whistling to himself.  "Oh, I'm keeping that one," he grinned, and pocketed the strike.

Zaalbar growled hopefully, and held out a small "prize size" bottle of Corellian whiskey.

"Hey!  You can't do that!" shouted Mission, but Zaalbar just chuckled.

Carth looked curiously at the Wookie.  "Isn't she a little young for you?"

Zaalbar growled calmly in response.

"Good point," Carth laughed, and traded Mission's strikes to the Wookie.

"What did he say?" asked Canderous.

"He said, she'll get older and they'll still be valid," explained Patience.  "Mission, what did you put in there?"

"Nothing," she muttered, and blushed dark blue.  Zaalbar laughed, and Mission muttered something rude under her breath.

"Wait, I – let me see that strike you pulled off the table, Carth!" Patience demanded.

Carth looked at her.  "What?  No, why?"  He set the table and began the next game.

"Because I copied two random ones!"

Carth just grinned at her, in his most infuriating way.  "No."

"Carth!"

"You're up, Patience," said Mission unhelpfully.

Patience made a noise of exasperation, and settled down to play.  Canderous won the next round, making Mission almost scream in frustration.

"Maybe you should stop cheating and play right," Canderous grinned.  "Let's see… looks like I won't be cleaning the galley for a while."  Mission threw a wrapper at his head, and he laughed.  "What else do I have here?  Cooking, more cleaning, and a kissing session.  Nice!"

Carth raised an eyebrow.  "Who is that from?"

Canderous smiled.  "Wouldn't you like to know, flyboy?"  He reset the table to start the next game.

Patience groaned.  "I don't like this game."

"What on earth are you all doing?" demanded Bastila.

"We're playing strike pazaak," Mission explained.  "Wanna join?"

Bastila stared at her.  "Strike pazaak is a game for loose women and mercenaries!  I'm shocked that you would participate in such a low pastime!"

"You're awfully stuck up," Mission observed.

Patience just shook her head, and continued playing.

"You're playing this too?" said Bastila in horror.

"Be quiet, I'm actually winning for once."

Juhani nervously offered Bastila some chocolate.

"Oh, thank you, Juhani."  Bastila ate the candy, then helped herself to another one from the pile between Patience and Juhani, who wasn't actually playing.  Since Patience hadn't said anything, she took a few more.

"You know, that's my money you're eating," said Patience finally.

"You seem to doing well."

"Actually, that's all Juhani's so far.  She earned it by satisfying Carth's base desires."

"Oh, very funny," snapped Bastila.  "What happened to your ribbon?"

"That would be the base desire that Carth needed satisfying," said Patience dryly, winning another set.

Bastila sighed, and popped another chocolate into her mouth.  She pulled a chair over, and knelt on it behind Patience so that she could braid her hair.  Bastila gently pulled Patience's shirt to one side so that she could get all of Patience's hair in her hands.

Carth looked over, and dropped his beer and cards in shock.

"What is it with you and my hair?" asked Patience without moving.

Carth put his head on the table.  "It's not your hair this time."

Juhani looked carefully, then straightened Patience's shirt so that Carth couldn't see under her shirt anymore.

"He's still out of this round, though," said Mission.  "And go clean up your beer before you short out the table, flyboy."

"Right.  Just give me a second," said Carth, trying to remember how to breathe.  "Excuse me."  Carth stood up slowly.  "I'll be right back."

"Yes!  I win!"  Patience cheered, and Canderous threw down his cards in disgust.  Juhani gathered the pot for her, and they went through them together.

Bastila, still fixing Patience's hair, glanced down at the strikes.  "Does that say a back massage?"

"Yeah, you want it?"  Patience held it out to her, and Bastila slid the chit into her shirt.

Canderous opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it.  Carth returned, and cleaned up the beer spill while Patience started the next round.

Bastila finished with Patience's hair, then sat down on her chair and helped herself to some more from the increased pile of chocolate, and drank some of the beer that Patience was sharing with Juhani.  Patience brought some more beer from Zaalbar, but the two Jedi continued drinking from her bottle instead of taking one of their own.

Patience decided not to complain about it, and concentrated on playing.  Bastila and Juhani cheered when she won another round, and gleefully went through the pot, eating more chocolate and checking the strikes.

Carth looked over at the Jedi women in disbelief.  "Bastila, are you… are you using your Battle Meditation to help Patience win?"

"What?"  Bastila stared at him in shock.  "How could you possibly think that I would behave in such a fashion?  That I would use my abilities for something so frivolous?"

"Hey, look, a hand massage," said Patience.  "You want this too?"

Bastila smiled at Carth, and slid the strike into her shirt next to the other one, safely tucked against her breast.  "Besides, considering how easy it is to distract you men with a little skin…"

"I knew you were doing it on purpose," Canderous growled.  "But I couldn't help myself."

Bastila burst out laughing, and took another swig of beer.

"Guess you're not that old after all," grinned Mission.  "And yet you still cheated just so I would lose too."

"Good thing I already won what I wanted," said Carth.  "You people make me sick, with all your cheating."

"You liar!" Mission exclaimed.  "You totally cheated in the first round."

"Why, you little brat!" Carth protested.  "Where do you get off accusing me of cheating, just because you lost?"

"Enough, it's dinner time."  Canderous turned off the table.  "Oh, hey, I don't have to cook."  He handed a chit to Mission with a cruel laugh.

Mission dropped her head to the table.  "I really hate you guys."

Zaalbar growled encouragingly, and the two walked down the galley to prepare the meal.

Patience looked at Carth.  "Okay, now will you tell me what the first strike said?"

"Which?"

"The one you wouldn't let me see!  I know it's mine, I checked all the others."

"Oh, that," Carth grinned.  He pulled the chit out of his pocket and handed it to her.  "Might as well use it now."

Patience read it, and started laughing.  "Carth!  You made me think it was something horrible.  I hate you."

Carth stood, smiling, and held out his hand to her.  "Too bad, it's still a valid debt, and you're going to pay it."

She took his hand, blushing slightly.  "Jerk."

"Let's go to the cargo hold."

Bastila stared at her, and Patience handed her the chit before walking away with Carth.

"A dancing lesson?" said Bastila in confusion, and Patience flashed her a happy smile.

Carth locked the door to the cargo hold once they were inside, then pulled her to him for a long, warm kiss.  "You have no idea how happy I am to be off Dantooine."

"Not happier than I am!"

"At least you had classes, and things to do.  I had to spend all day dodging Jedi Masters who wanted to know if you were pregnant yet, and that damned little green – thing – "

"Ah, very interesting," said Patience in perfect imitation of Master Vandar, and they both threw back their heads and laughed.

"He was the worst!"  Carth leaned over her, and kissed her again, and Patience put her arms around his neck, pulling him to her hungrily.  "Did Bastila tell you they're encouraging female Jedi to go out and have babies now?  Because of you?"

"What?"

"Your vision of the future made them think, and they remembered that the children of Jedi tend to be Jedi as well.  So the Council has relaxed the rules a little, and they've set up a child raising center on Coruscant."

"Really?"

Carth nodded.  "Wouldn't want the galaxy to run out of Jedi, now would we?"

Patience laughed, and kissed Carth again.  "That's it, as soon as this stupid mission is over, we're getting married and settling down!"

"Deal," Carth pulled her into a stunning kiss before she could protest, lifting her in his arms, crushing her to him.

"Oh, I didn't mean it that way," she breathed softly.  She couldn't take her eyes from his face, from the loving passion in his eyes.  She wanted him to do that again, to hold her tightly, with all his strength.

"I did."  He kissed her again, and started undoing the braid that was holding her hair in place.

"No, I mean, you don't have to… you can't hear me over the urge to touch my hair, can you?" she smiled.

Carth chuckled.  "I can't help it.  You're very, very beautiful.  You must know that."

She thought about it.  "No, I can't remember anyone ever bringing it up before."

"Really?  Is everyone blind where you come from?"

Patience shrugged.  "I can't remember where I came from, and my record says I'm not married and never had a baby, so … maybe?  Maybe I was raised by some Near-Human species, and I'm really ugly to them?"

"Or maybe," Carth kissed her again, "you sprang full-grown from the brow of a Celestial goddess, and were sent to save the galaxy from destruction."  Her hair, soft like silk, spilled down over his hands, and Carth smiled in appreciation.  "So very beautiful."

Patience moaned softly, and slid a hand beneath his collar, seeking his skin.

"None of that," said Carth with mock severity.  "This is supposed to be a dancing lesson, remember?  The kissing session is later."

"Oh, this is part of the lesson," she whispered with a smile.

"Really?" said Carth.  "Do tell."

Patience slid her hands along his skin.  "The dance style is called adan'jere – it means, 'skins touch.'  You put your hips against each other, like so," she pulled him into a close embrace, and placed his arm around her, held the other one in her hand.  "Your hands stay here, and here, so that we can feel each other's rhythm."  She returned her other hand to his shoulder, playing with his collar, touching his skin.

"There's no music," Carth whispered hoarsely.  Her closeness was intoxicating, her touch maddening.

"Oh, but there is," Patience said sweetly.  "This is why the style only works for two members of the same species."  She started to tap out the rhythm of his heartbeat, "And really, any song will do when you really want to dance."  She started to hum a simple melody, matching his rhythm, then began to sway, moving his hips with hers, guiding him to leading her in a set of simple steps.

He held her close, as the style demanded, and she ran her leg along his, letting him sweep her in a graceful circle.  "I like this dance," Carth whispered in her ear.  "But I think I like anything that gives me an excuse to touch you."

Patience, her lips curved in a brilliant and sweet smile, pulled his head down to hers.  "I want you to want me," she whispered back.  "I love knowing that you dream about me."  She watched his face, his smile, his eyes.  She opened her mouth to tell him that she felt the same way, only deeper and stronger, that she loved him more than he could imagine.  But she stopped, tilting her head to one side.

"What's wrong?"

She pushed him away.  "Do you hear that?"

Carth looked around, and suddenly Patience ran out of the cargo hold, twisting her hair up and out of the way.  Carth stared after her in shock, then the alarm sounded.

"Sith fighters!  We're under attack!" Canderous shouted as he ran to the bridge, seeing that Patience was already halfway up to the gunnery turret.

Carth shook himself.  How had she known?  He ran to the bridge.  There was no hiding from the fact that there was something very unusual about the woman he loved, and possibly, a little frightening.

Canderous grinned in appreciation as Patience shot down the Sith fighters one by one.  "That is some woman."

Carth didn't answer, and concentrated on the approach to Tatooine.

Canderous looked over in surprise.  "What, you're done with her already?"

"What?  No.  I just..."  he couldn't think of what to say.  He wished he had someone to talk to, besides the towering Mandalorian.  "Just leave her alone, Ordo."

"Leave her alone too long, flyboy, and she won't be there when you get back."

"What are you two talking about?" asked Bastila as she walked up to the bridge.

"Nothing," said Carth quickly.  "We're landing on Tatooine.  Could you make sure everyone is okay?"

"Of course," said Bastila calmly, and took Patience, who had just jumped down from the turret, with her to check the crew.

They landed on Tatooine, and waited for the port officials to clear their ship so they could enter the city proper.  Carth busied himself with some minor repairs, avoiding Patience.

With a sigh, Patience went outside and sat on the gangplank, watching people go by.  Canderous and Bastila joined her.

"Hot out," Canderous grunted.

"It is," Patience agreed.  Tatooine was hot and dry, and the suns were way too bright.  "Does it ever rain here?"

Bastila shook her head.  "There isn't enough moisture."

Patience watched curiously as a family walked past, a white-haired little boy following his mother and father.  The woman was a tall, shapely Near-Human with long white hair and slave marks on her face; and the man, a handsome young Human with brown hair.  Patience looked at them in surprise, and tried not to stare.  The woman didn't look Human enough to have a child with a true Human.  They were talking excitedly about something, and didn't notice the little boy wandering away.  Patience skipped down the ramp, and tried to surreptitiously herd the child back into following his parents.

The little boy toddled right up to her instead, charming her with his dark grey eyes, and demanded to be picked up.  Patience laughed quietly and lifted him in her arms.  The little boy smiled happily at her, and kissed her on the cheek.

"What are you doing?" Bastila asked, and the little boy held out his arms to Bastila.

"He's a flirt," grinned Patience.  "Don't blame me."

Bastila let the little boy kiss her, as his parents came back for their missing child.

"Look at that, Jaek managed to find a Jedi to flirt with," the man grinned.  "Sorry, he's Force sensitive, and just can't keep his little hands off Jedi."  He took the boy back from Bastila with a smile.

"Are you taking him to Coruscant?" asked Bastila, still holding hands with the smiling little boy.

The woman nodded, smiling proudly at her son.

Patience looked curiously at the little boy, then the father.  She felt something wet touch her ear, and jumped with a shriek of surprise.  Canderous burst out laughing, and she threw a mock punch at his shoulder.  "What was that?"

"I didn't do anything," he said, with a terrible attempt at innocence.  "Go get me a beer."

"Get it yourself," she protested, and Canderous held out a chit.

"Oh, that stupid game," Patience took the chit demanding an hour's worth of errands, and walked back into the ship.  It wasn't until she was standing in the galley that she realized that Canderous had stopped her from being extremely rude.  Mandalorians, with their love of extended families and interspecies adoption, would have noticed immediately that the boy was not the son of the man.

Patience wondered what their story was, as the man and woman seemed to be in love, and the little boy was obviously the child of the woman.  Patience brought Canderous the beer, and was in time to see the family walking away.

The man was holding the little boy, who was waving goodbye to everyone.  When the boy saw Patience, he blew her a baby kiss and waved.

"He didn't blow me a kiss," said Bastila.  "You've made another conquest!"

Canderous laughed, and Patience blushed.  The woman turned again, and looked curiously at Patience before the family boarded a transport ship.

"What was that about?" Canderous asked.  "Did she know you?"

Patience shrugged.  "I don't think so?"

"She didn't seem to recognize you.  I think you just remind her of someone.  Either that, or she was afraid you were going to steal her baby."  Bastila smiled, to show she was joking.

Canderous laughed, and Patience rolled her eyes.

"I don't suppose you feel like upgrading my gun now, do you?" Canderous grinned.  "Oh, wait, you don't have a choice."

"Fine, I'll go do it," Patience returned to the ship, and carried the Mandalorian's heavy assault rifle to the workbench.  She hummed a little song to herself, and started upgrading the weapon's targeting and power delivery system.  When she finished with his rifle, she started working on another rifle that someone had placed next to her, without thinking about it.  It wasn't until she stopped to stretch, that she realized she had gotten so absorbed in her work that she had also upgraded two pairs of blaster pistols as well as the two rifles.

"Oh, you're awake again."  She turned and saw Carth leaning against the wall, watching her work.  He smiled at her.  "Canderous was going to try and slip his armor in, to see what would happen."

Patience blushed a little.  "I got a little carried away."

"Want to go get some food?"

"Just one second, I didn't finish," she looked back at the workbench.  "I want to do some work on my lightsaber, to see what happens."

Carth watched her turn back to the tools and the weapons, and she again fell under the spell of her work.  He watched as she changed the crystals in her lightsaber, moved around some wires, added new connectors.  Finally she stood, and picked up the casing, checking the balance in her hand.  She made an experimental pass, then activated the blade.  Carth gasped in surprise.  The blade had changed from brilliant blue to a soft violet, and the hum was subtly different.

Patience smiled in satisfaction.  "It worked!"

"Where did you find new crystals?"

"That weird cave, you remember.  The one with all the corrupted kinraths."  She turned off the lightsaber and put it away.  "Does this mean you trust me again?"

Carth shook his head.  "No, you're just too beautiful to resist."  He pulled her into his arms for a quick kiss, but she buried her hands in his hair, and wouldn't let him go.

She kissed him hungrily, desperately, trying to convince him of something, but she wasn't sure what.  "Please, Carth," she whispered before kissing him again.  "Please, don't leave me."

He lifted her in his arms, drew her into a wild kiss.

"Hey, get a room!  What is it with you two?" grumbled Mission.  "Gimme back my guns before you get them all sticky."

"Those are your guns?" Patience moved so that Mission could pick up her weapons.

"Canderous said I could."  Mission poked out her tongue at Patience.  She picked up the other assault rifle as well.  "And Zaalbar says thank you," she giggled as she ran off.

"Oh, that jerk."  She looked at the bench again.  "So, whose pistols are those?"

Carth kissed her again, then picked up his weapons, laughing.

"What!"

"You get really wrapped up in your work, don't you?"  Carth kissed her cheek.  "Thank you."

"Oh!"

Carth met her eyes, to make sure she wasn't really angry, and somehow, she was in his arms again, kissing him with all her soul.  "Thank you," he repeated.  "For everything.  Just," he kissed her hair, "just be patient with me, okay?  It's been a while."  He smiled at her, and Patience knew that she would wait, no matter how long it long it took for Carth to thaw out completely.  She knew that it would be worth it.


	15. Strength and Mercy

Mission and Zaalbar decided to stay with the ship, while Canderous and Juhani took care of restocking supplies.

Patience listened idly while Bastila argued with the Tatooine docking officials over the fees, and wandered out into Anchorhead with T3, trying to wait for Carth and Bastila to catch up.  The giant riding beasts and the tiny Jawas thrilled her, and she speedily lost her friends in the marketplace.

T3 burbled admonishingly at her, and she smiled, and tried to wait.  Patience spun in a circle, watching the dull sand move beneath her feet.  Suddenly she stopped.  "Is that a swoop bike?"  She ran towards the building to investigate, but stopped again, listening.

"There."  The voice was dark and hearing it, she felt as if she had been dropped into a vat of icy acid.  "Shan and her companions.  Kill them all."

There were three of them, clad in long dark robes.  The leader of the three stretched out his hand, and Patience barely had time to move before bolts of black lightning erupted from her fingers.  She screamed in agony at the first touch, but succeeded in knocking down the mother and child who were standing between the Dark Jedi and Bastila.

"Run!" Patience shouted, and staggered back to her feet, trying to throw off the mind numbing pain.  The marketplace erupted in screams, and the Dark Jedi drew their lightsabers.  Patience looked around, at the panicked citizens running in fear, and she straightened herself to face the Dark Jedi.

"You intend to face us, mercenary?" hissed their leader.  "Are you crazy?"

"Why does everyone ask me that?" Patience drew her lightsaber, and activated it.  This was the first time she had drawn it since she finished changing the crystal color.  She was expecting them to be surprised that the small woman before them in mercenary armor was a Jedi.  She was not expecting them to draw back in shock.

"Who are you?" the Dark Jedi demanded.

"No, really, why does everyone ask me that?"  Her body began to process the combat as they charged, without waiting from input from her mind.  There were three of them, she shifted her form to deal with multiple opponents, using her lightsaber to block and intercept their dark energy.  She felt keenly the lack of an off-hand weapon, even though her opponents were not at all skilled with the use of their lightsabers.  They used their Force attacks freely, and Patience shook her head.  They should have realized that it wouldn't work when she had survived the first attack, and switched tactics.  She wondered what their teachers had expected, sending them out with insufficient training.

Her lightsaber flashed, and the first Dark Jedi fell to the sand, his body still and empty.  The other two redoubled their attacks, trying to find a weak spot in her form, and she shifted styles again, bouncing their blows back at them.

"Who are you?"  There was something like fear in the leader's voice, her arrogance shaken as her robes slipped back to reveal her face.  The leader was about the same age as Bastila, but her hair was streaked with white and her eyes were a vicious yellow from her reliance on the Dark Side.

Patience grinned.  "Honestly, I have no idea.  You could surrender and we could talk about it," she offered.

The Dark Jedi growled in fury and threw another blast of dark energy at Patience.  The bolt knocked her from her feet, but Patience quickly rolled with the blast and sprang back to her feet, shifting forms again to guard herself from another Force attack.  She noticed the sounds of blaster fire behind her for the first time, and realized that Carth and Bastila were involved in a fight of their own.  Patience gritted her teeth, and her eyes fell on the Dark Jedi lying on the sand.  As quickly as thought, she dove forward and wrenched the fallen Jedi's lightsaber from his dead hands.

With a pleased smile, she activated the second lightsaber so that she finally had one in each hand.  She didn't care about the color; she didn't mind the fact that it was a little unbalanced.  Those things could be easily fixed.  She settled into the proper form, and her mind began to sing a battle song as her hands spun the lightsabers slowly, testing the rhythm, the weight, the speed.

"What?"  The Dark Jedi drew back again.  "Who are you?"

"Stop asking me that and fight!"  Patience jumped into the air, her lightsabers singing as she swung them down at the two Dark Jedi.  They separated, thinking to weaken her attacks by flanking her, but they had never fought someone with her speed and skill before.  Too late, they realized that by separating, they could no longer support each other with their Force attacks.  Patience easily blocked their lightsaber attacks, and waited for one of them to make the Sith choice of attacking her with the Force regardless of their companion.  The moment came soon enough, and she jumped again, spinning in midair so that she landed behind the one who had chosen to risk his companion's life, and cut him down while he was concentrating on manipulating the Force.

The last Dark Jedi charged while still weak from her companion's attack.  Her blows were wild and random, and she fell almost immediately, wounded past saving.  Blood spilled out over her robes, staining the desert sand.

"Why?" Patience gasped.  "Why didn't you just surrender?"

"And admit that I have failed my Master?"  She shook her head, and before Patience could do anything, the Dark Jedi breathed her last.

Carth grabbed Bastila's arm and dragged her into an alley.

"Carth!  What are you doing?"

"I want answers.  I want them now."  His face was grim and set.  "Who is she?"

"Carth, please," Bastila shook her head.  "I – " she stared at the ground.  "A Jedi's life is sacrifice, Carth.  What sacrifice would you not make to stop the Sith?  What would you not give for such a cause?"

Carth stared at her.  "I don't understand."

Bastila swallowed nervously.  "The Sith torture their prisoners.  They go into the minds of their Jedi prisoners, trying to break them to the Dark Side, through fear and suffering."  She looked up at him, trying to make him understand.  "But that bond goes both ways.  A Jedi of strength and bravery who was willing to take a great risk could learn much from such a bond."  Her eyes fell again, and she sighed.  "But the damage done was too great.  She clung to me, as she was dying, trying to show me what she had learned, but something happened.  A backlash of some sort, from the actions of the Sith.

"We are bonded," Bastila continued, "but she doesn't remember anything of the past at all.  It's as if something, someone, stripped away everything that she had once been, leaving only a shell and some echoes.  Even now," she looked helplessly back to Patience, who was putting her lightsabers away, "she remembers the actions, the words, she moves as a Jedi, but she knows nothing!  We tried to help her as much as we could.  At first, she seemed to have cut herself off from the Force, hiding somewhere within herself."  She looked sadly at Carth again, and shook her head.  "I don't understand what is happening any more than you do.  The masters hoped that by following the echoes of the memories left in her mind, something would come back.  It was a remote chance that her abilities would return, a slight possibility that her memories would return, but no one expected you."

"What do I have to do with anything?" he demanded.

Bastila shook her head again, not sure how to explain her fears.  "The future is an echo of our current actions.  Meeting you has changed everything, for her and for me.  Carth, she sees a future with you that cannot be.  Not while…."  Bastila stopped herself.  "I can't explain any more, I'm sorry.  Only, if you find that you cannot love her, please… be kind.  Do not hurt her any more than you must."  Bastila gently pulled herself away, and walked to meet Patience, and deflect her questions.

Stunned, Carth watched Bastila walk away.

Patience didn't seem to realize how odd it was that she had killed three Dark Jedi by herself.  Instead, she was busy helping people set their stalls to rights and making sure no one had been hurt.  The mother and child that she had saved from the first attack tried to kiss her hands, but she laughed them away, and gave the little girl a fruit from a merchant's stall.  She looked curiously at the weird, prickly fruit, peeled one herself and ate it.

"Oh!  These are delicious!  What are they?"

Bastila shook her head.  "You have the attention span of a butterfly in heat," she admonished gently.  "They're durawarr, they're from Dantooine.  You've had them before."

"Oh, right, I didn't recognize them with the shell.  Rind.  Whatever this thing is," she tossed the fruit peel to a nearby ronto, and the beast greedily swallowed it whole.  "These are what they make that jam out of, isn't it?  They're wonderful."  The grateful merchant handed her a bag of them, and promised to forward some to the ship.  Patience laughed joyously.  "See, Bastila, we do get repaid for good deeds!  Where's Carth?"

Bastila looked around.  "He was right behind us, oh, here he is."  She held out a fruit to him.  "They're quite good."

Carth forced himself to smile.  "I'd rather have a naranja," he said, and the merchant handed him a bag of the orange fruits.  "Thanks!"  He peeled one and popped two slices in his mouth so he could make a face at Patience, and she nearly collapsed with laughter.

T3 came up, and questioned her.  She bent over the droid, examining the damage he had taken in the firefight.  "Yes, they were after Bastila," Patience answered.

"How did they know where to find you?" Carth wondered, but Bastila had no answer.

"We need to get some parts and stuff so I can fix T3."

A Jawa examined the damaged droid and chirped at her.

"What?  No, I'm not selling."  The Jawa burbled at her again, and Patience cut him off.  "I don't care how much you're offering!  I want parts.  He's not for sale.  And if you try and steal him, I'll come find you."  There was more excited chirping from the Jawa.

"You understand that?" said Carth in shock.

"Mostly," said Patience.  "Slow down, you're going too fast.  Kidnapped?  What?"

The Jawa tried again, but to Carth's ears it didn't sound any slower.

"Well, the Sand People shouldn't be allowed to do that."

Carth turned to Bastila.  "Am I the only one who wonders if she's really having a conversation, or if she's just saying whatever comes into her head?"  Patience and Bastila both turned and glared at him.  "It's a legitimate question," he laughed.  "Why is it you only understand the squeaky languages?"

"I do not!" Patience protested.  "Oh, why do I talk to you?"  She turned back to the Jawa.  "I'll see what I can do," she promised.  "And thanks!"

"What did you just commit us to?" Bastila demanded.  "We're here on a mission."

"Yes, yes, your stupid Star Maps.  Following in Revan's footsteps, blah blah.  We need to talk to the Sand People, right?  Padaziz says there's a droid shop at the other end of the town, with a protocol droid that can talk to them."

"You traded names already?  Wait, how can you tell them apart?"

"I'm ignoring you.  Bastila, can you take T3 back to the ship while we go to the shop?  We'll meet you back there."

Bastila nodded, and led the little droid away, while Carth and Patience walked through Anchorhead in comfortable silence.  They walked into the droid store, and the merchant, a nervous Ithorian, immediately welcomed them.  Patience looked the protocol droid over.  The model was unfamiliar to her, but he seemed to be in good shape.  His red-gold metallic sheen was a little dulled, and he looked generally battered, but otherwise serviceable.

"Request: Please purchase me."

She looked in surprise at the droid.  "I thought the merchant said you couldn't talk with the restraining bolt on."

"Clarification: I do not want to talk to the merchant with the restraining bolt on.  Extrapolation: His incompetence with machines is equaled only by his cowardice."

Patience laughed.  "Let me look you over.  Looks like you've been shot at a bit."

"Declaration: My last master died in unfortunate circumstances involving a pazaak game and an unloaded blaster."

"Oooh," said Carth with false sympathy.  "Cheating requires better planning.  Why are you so eager to be purchased?"

"Correction: I am eager to be purchased by you.  Observation: Your companions are all armed.  Inference: You would be quite likely to make use of my unique talents."

Patience looked up from her inspection of the droid.  "And what talents would those be?"

"Statement: I am an HK-47 Systech Corporation protocol droid, fluent in over 6000 organic communication patterns.  Addendum: I am also possessed of a series of defensive combat protocols that you will, no doubt, find quite useful."

"Your memory core looks like it was damaged," Patience observed.

"Assertion: Indeed, it was."

"And your actuators are totally gone."

"Admiration: You have genuine skill with repair, far beyond the norm.  Query: Have you considered purchasing a protocol droid today?" asked the droid hopefully.

Patience grinned.  "Let me talk to the Ithorian."

They argued for a little while, before the Ithorian finally lowered the price to something they could afford, and Patience worked off the restraining bolt.

"Statement: Thank you, Master."

"What?" Patience looked up at the droid in surprise.  "My name is Patience, you don't have to call me that."

"Correction: My core programming states that I do, indeed, have to address my current owner as Master.  Clarification: It is not as onerous a task in this case as it usually is."

Patience sighed, and made a few more purchases from the Ithorian.  She was running out of credits, and stared at a shield upgrade, trying to decide if it was worth the price.  The Ithorian shook his fist at her, and stepped forward, trying to browbeat her into making her purchases and leaving.

"Hey," snapped Carth, but the droid was faster, and the Ithorian went flying head over hump.

"What?  What did you just do?" asked Patience in shock.

"Observation: The cowardly herdbeast violated the distance protocol, Master," said HK grimly.  "Explanation: Such an action activates my defensive protocols.  Query: Would you like me to complete the task now?  Extrapolation: We could recover all the credits we just spent, and you would have all the parts you desire."

"What?  No!" exclaimed Patience, and ran over to help the Ithorian to his feet.  "I'm so sorry.  I think we're done now, come on, let's get out of here before he calls the authorities on us."

"Observation: If the herdbeast tries it, he would do well to remember that I am well acquainted with his sleeping patterns."

"HK!  Will you stop threatening the poor man?"  She hustled the angry droid out of the shop.

"You know what would be nice?  If we could come across a droid that doesn't have any personality quirks.  Is it just you?"

"Query: Master has another droid?"

"A little utility droid, you'll like him.  He's nice."

"Assessment: The odds of that statement coming true have dropped rapidly."

"You've got a loose… hold still, let me just get this."  Patience fixed a loose plate that she hadn't noticed before on the HK's chassis.  "There.  What were you saying?"

"Statement: Nothing, Master."

"Maybe if you didn't constantly fuss over them, they wouldn't all go crazy," muttered Carth.

The droid swiveled its rust-colored head to look at Carth, and its red eyes scanned him.  "Observation: Symptoms include vocal stress, elevated heartrate, increased respiration, indicating emotional turmoil commonly identified with the term 'jealousy.'  Query: Is this meatbag to be excluded from the distance protocols, Master?"

"What?" Carth exclaimed.  "What did you just call me?"

Patience tried to form a sentence without giggling, but had to stop and lean against a wall to recover herself before she could speak.  "Yes, HK, he's allowed to get close to me.  The same is true for all our crewmembers.  And please don't call him a meatbag."

"Clarification: I regret that I am unable to comply with your request, Master.  Statement: My core programming defines all organic lifeforms as meatbags, and I have been programmed to use that term unless a more appropriate one is available."

"More appropriate?" snapped Carth.  "Like what, calling the Ithorian a herdbeast?"

"Observation: The meatbag is more perceptive than I originally gave him credit for, Master."

Patience choked down her laughter as they walked back into the port.  "Here's the ship."  She led the droid into the Ebon Hawk's garage so that she could start fixing him.

"What's this?" asked Canderous, looking over the droid.

"It's an HK-47 protocol droid, so we can talk to the Sand People.  HK, this is Canderous Ordo.  He's part of the crew."

"Never seen that model," Canderous grunted.

"Statement: Protocols have been updated."

Patience looked at him in surprise.  "Why are you suddenly being polite?"

"Observation: Ordo is a Mandalorian clan, and he is holding a fully customized Mandalorian heavy assault rifle.  Clarification: My personality was designed to be abrasive, not suicidal."

Canderous chuckled.  "Are you the reason flyboy looked like someone threw ronto droppings all over his next meal?"

"Statement: Your suggestion has merit."

"HK, do not torment Carth!  And Canderous, stop encouraging him!"

"I like him," grinned Canderous.  "More droids should have personalities like his."

"Canderous, go away.  And why are you holding your gun anyway?"

"Oh, I was going to ask if you could do something about the trigger.  It's a little sticky."

"Sure, leave it on the table," she said absently.

"Also, could you take a look at my armor?  I found some new plates in the marketplace, but I don't know if they are compatible."

She nodded, but continued working on HK.

"Oh, look at that, she's ignoring everything I say again.  I'm just going to leave all this on the table for you.  If you want her to do anything complicated, now's the best time to ask her."

The droid looked curiously down at her.  Something stirred in his damaged memory core.  "Query: What did you say your name was, Master?"

"Patience Keçrye," she answered without pausing in her work.

"Observation: How interesting."

"What's so interesting about it?" she muttered as she worked out the damaged parts so that she could replace them.

"Observation: The surname is completely devoid of recognizable world markers."

She continued working in silence.

"Interpretation: I will not bring the subject up again, Master."

"You know, I've seen the Systech catalog.  Your model isn't listed.  They don't even have an H series."

"Observation: I have no more knowledge of my origin than you do, Master.  Statement: Perhaps you will find more definite information in the course of your repairs."

"Probably," she murmured.  "Whoever made you, they took a lot of pride in their work.  And they did really good work."

The droid silently processed all the recent input that it had collected while Patience continued to work on repairs.

"What was that noise?" asked Carth.  "Were you testing the droid's vocabulator or something?"

"What?"  Patience looked up.  "We were just talking."

"Observation: Master's memory core was damaged recently."

"Is it that obvious?" asked Carth.

"Statement: Master was completely unaware of what language she was speaking during our conversation.  Observation: Master is remarkably fluent in an astonishing variety of alien languages."

"Yeah," Patience agreed, "but not Sand People, which is why I got you."

"Observation: Even if Master understood their language, she would be physically unable to reproduce the requisite sounds.  Statement: Master's voice is too well modulated to successfully sound like a sandflea-ridden unwashed nomadic meatbag."

Patience frowned at the droid.

"See?  I was right," grinned Carth.  "You can only speak the squeaky languages."

"Carth!"

"Query: Would Master like me to chastise the impertinent meatbag?" HK asked hopefully.

"No!"  Patience stood up.  "Run a full diagnostic," she handed a datapad to the droid, "I'll come back for the results.  You stay here, and do not harm anyone on the ship."

"Observation: I have not yet identified all the crewmembers.  Correlation: This could result in an … unwanted … activation of my defensive protocols."

"I'll take you around in a few minutes," she promised.

"Maybe," Carth gently pushed her away from the worktable, "maybe you should take the crazy droid around to meet everyone before you start working."

"Observation: The impertinent meatbag seems to have his own defensive protocols for you, Master.  Observation: Of course, they are not nearly as efficient as mine."

"Seriously, do you just make droids go crazy?"

Patience rolled her eyes and led HK around the ship, introducing the droid to everyone.

"That is the most annoying protocol droid I have ever met," Bastila snapped to Carth as soon as HK was out of earshot.

"He almost acts like a real person – whoever designed that droid really knew what they were doing."  Carth grinned at Patience as she walked back to the main cabin.  "You're done playing with your new toy?"

Patience sat down, and drank the rest of the beer in front of Carth.  "Please, can we talk about something else now?  I don't want to hear any more complaints about HK, or T3."

"What did that crazy little rust bucket do now?"

"I don't want to talk about it.  Ask Mission."

Bastila shook her head, and went to go talk to the young Twi'lek.

Carth leaned over and picked Patience up.

"Hey!  Actually, I'm not going to complain."  She snuggled into his arms.  "This seems like a good plan.  I like it."

Carth laughed quietly, and walked to his cabin with her in his arms.  He sat down on the bed, still holding her close.

She sighed in contentment.  "You know, I never fixed the lights."

"You fell into my arms last time you tried.  I wonder what would happen if you tried now."

Patience smiled at him.  "I don't feel like getting up.  Let's just skip to the kissing."

"Sounds good to me."  Carth smiled at her.  "Just one thing."  He slid one hand into her hair, and laughed with her as he teased away the ribbon.  She shook her head in mock despair, and her hair fell in dark waves over his hands.  Carth pulled her to him, ran his hands through her soft hair, over her curves and her muscles.  Her lips, incredibly soft against his; her hands, touching his neck, his chest; her soft moans of pleasure between kisses.

"Carth," she whispered passionately.

He kissed her once more, then pulled away slightly.  "Patience, can I ask you a question?  Or two?"

"Now?"

"Well, I'm hoping not to be interrupted this time.  At least I got the important parts out of the way first."

She laughed.  "True.  Fine," she lay her head on his chest, "ask away."

"What do you think about Bastila?"

Patience looked up at him in surprise.  "Bastila?  I like her, she's nice.  Nicer than I thought at first."

"You don't feel anything special about her?"

Patience shook her head.  "If it weren't for those stupid shared visions, I wouldn't notice her particularly."  She laughed.  "Sometimes, when she's lecturing me about the Force and the Dark Side and the Jedi Code, she sounds so mixed up.  I just want to shake her and correct her.  She can be so naïve!  I feel like she's the student, and I'm the Master."  Patience shook her head.  "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to feel about her, though.  I thought Jedi were supposed to travel with their Masters or something, but neither of us are Masters.  We're both just Padawans, technically."

"Bastila's still a Padawan?" said Carth in surprise.  "I didn't realize that."

Patience shrugged.  "I don't know why they haven't promoted her.  She's certainly skilled enough."

"Why are they sending two Padawans out on a crazy mission like this?  Without any guidance?"

"Oh, don't complain.  The last thing we need is some old bantha lecturing us every ten minutes on 'the ways of the Force.'"

"'They are dark and mysterious.'"

"'You must have faith in the Force!'"

They broke into guilty little giggles, and she quickly kissed him again.  "So… is it question time?"

"Sure," Carth sighed.  "It's only fair."

"Tell me about Saul."

Carth closed his eyes against the dark memory.  "You've heard of Saul Karath.  Everyone has.  He was the hero of the Republic fleet, and helped win the Mandalorian Wars."  He sighed, remembering the few precious days of peace.  "And then Revan returned, at the head of an impossible Sith Armada.  Everything began to fall apart.  Whole battalions defected from the Republic.  Rank and file, generals, heroes, they all left the Republic and turned to Revan.  And Karath was one of them," he said bitterly.

"He was my friend!" Carth went on.  "I trusted him!  He tried to talk me into joining him, but I didn't realize it at the time.  I thought he was just talking.  If only I had understood….  I could have stopped him!  I could have stopped it all!  But I didn't."  Carth's head fell, and Patience stroked his face, waiting for him to continue.  "I'm sorry if I act like I don't trust you sometimes.  I can't help it.  I want to help you with this mission, not drag you down."

"You are helping, Carth!  I would never be able to do this without you."

He smiled sadly at her.  "You would be just fine without me."

Patience shook her head.  "I'd be a basket case!  Either that, or I'd walk around quoting old masters all the time.  'Trust in the guidance of the Force!'"  She made a face, and Carth laughed.  She reached up and kissed him again.  "I'm going to go play with the workbench again.  Will you come rescue me before I pass out?" she asked playfully.

"Yes, Patience, I will save you."

She smiled gratefully, and kissed him once more before she ran off to alter the second lightsaber that she had recovered.


	16. A Reminder of Strength

"Oh, just say it," grinned Patience.

Bastila looked over at the droid marching silently alongside them.  "Fine, your protocol droid saved our lives.  There, are you happy?"

"Statement: Your thanks are unnecessary, Jedi.  Observation: I enjoyed making use of my combat functions."

"He likes killing things!" exclaimed Bastila.  "Who would make a protocol droid like that?"

"He was protecting us," Patience exclaimed.

"Correction: I was protecting my Master."

Bastila looked at the droid.  "What did you say?"

Patience realized the droid was deliberately being difficult and speaking in languages that he knew Bastila wouldn't understand.  "Nothing, don't worry about it.  Let's just head back to the ship and rest up, then we can go find your Star Map and move on."

"Of course," said Bastila uncertainly, and kept her eyes on HK.

They entered the ship, and Canderous walked into the garage.

"Hey, Patience, there's – " he began but she saw them first.

"What is that on the floor?" she asked, but when she saw the shadow flit back into the wall, she realized that they were vermin, and something in her mind shifted.  Vermin!  On her ship!  She raised her hand to strike them down, and she felt a sudden shock run through her, saw a sudden glimpse of a future where Carth was walking away from her.  Patience screamed as she realized what she was about to do, shut out the dark thoughts and ran blindly, still screaming.

Canderous lifted her in his arms, and caught Bastila before she sank to the floor, and carried them both from the ship.  She collapsed against him, sobbing wildly in terror, and threw her arms around him.

"What was that?"  Carth and the others came running out.

Zaalbar roared in rage, and stomped one of the gizka underfoot.

"Eww!"  Mission scampered away.  "How did they get on the ship?"

Carth saw Patience sobbing in Canderous' arms, and rushed down the ramp to her.  "What happened?  What's wrong?"

"She's scared of them," Canderous explained.  "And Bastila fainted."

Carth looked from one to the other in confusion.  "Where's that HK unit?"

"Make them go away," Patience sobbed.  "Please."

"Of course," he said gently, unsure of what to do.

"Attention: Impertinent meatbag.  Suggestion: The most efficient way to remove this particular verminous species would be poison.  Correlation: I have ascertained that the merchant located two clicks north of this position carries a poison that would be appropriately potent for the task.  Observation: Said merchant is oddly reluctant to vend said poison to a non-organic."

"Yeah, I wouldn't sell you poison either."  Carth followed HK so they could clear the ship.

"Where did they come from?" Mission asked again, and helped Canderous set Bastila down.

Canderous nodded towards the slaver that was docked next to them.  "That Hutt ship, I think."  Patience cringed, and nestled closer to him in unreasoning terror.  "T3 has been busy for the last hour sealing off all the main wiring.  I didn't think of using poison to get rid of them."  Canderous smiled at nothing in particular.

Mission looked up.  "You know, if you don't put her down, Carth's head is going to explode."

"I'm thinking about it."

Patience laughed shakily.  "I'm … I'm okay now."

"You sure?  You don't weigh much.  I could hold you all day."

She laughed a little, and he put her down, but she almost collapsed.  Her knees were still shaking with terror, and Canderous sat down and pulled her into his lap instead.

Mission giggled, and moved Bastila so that she was leaning on Canderous, then snuggled into the Mandalorian's arms as well.  "There, now Carth has nothing to complain about."

"And neither do I," said Canderous in pleased surprise.

"Where's Juhani?" Patience asked.

"She's helping T3 clear out the little lizards," Canderous answered.  He didn't think she wanted to hear exactly how the Cathar was helping.

"You know, Bastila's really pretty," Mission commented.  "Not as pretty as you.  But you never do anything nice with your hair, and you don't dress all fancy.  You always wear the same old armor or work clothes.  Not that Jedi robes are sexy or anything."

Patience stared at her.  "I can't fight in a dress."

"Yeah, but you don't fight when you're on the ship.  You should just get something nice, just to wear on board."

"Mission, what are you doing?"

"I'm distracting her and making you think naughty thoughts."  The irrepressible Twi'lek grinned up at Canderous.  "What color do you think she should wear?"

Canderous closed his eyes, and tried to think of something else.

"Oh come on, blue?  White?"

Bastila, still unconscious, stirred and slid her hand under his shirt, and moved her legs so that she was more comfortable.  Patience giggled slightly and Mission glanced up at Canderous.

"Okay, this is no longer funny," he grumbled.  "How long is Carth going to take?"

"What the – " Carth set down the bag that he was carrying, and looked at Canderous.  He saw Patience shrink away, whether from his expected reaction or from fear of what was in the bag, he wasn't sure.  "You can't afford all of them."

"What?" said Canderous.

"You're an unemployed mercenary!  You can't afford to maintain three women.  The law says that you have to maintain each spouse equally.  There's no way you can afford three women.  I, on the other hand," he grinned, "have a regular paycheck and just got a promotion.  I can afford at least two."

Canderous glared at him.  "I really hate you sometimes, flyboy."

"You can have Bastila," Carth offered.  "I'm not having two Force-sensitives in the house."

"Hey, I'm not sure I like where this is going," giggled Mission.

"What?  You'd make a great secondary wife.  Everyone likes blue."

Patience giggled shakily.  "Wouldn't Zaalbar have something to say about that?"

"He owes you a life debt, doesn't he?  I get two wives and a servant thrown in the bargain.  Hrm, wait – maybe I shouldn't let the Mandalorian run off with the Jedi who knows Battle Meditation."  Carth put his hand on his chin and pretended to think.  "Maybe I can afford three wives if I sell something."

Bastila made soft awakening noises, sliding her arm around Canderous and still not fully awake.

"Or, maybe you should just keep her," Carth observed, and Canderous blushed dark red.

"Keep who?" asked Bastila drowsily.  "I like these new beds, they're very comfortable."

Everyone laughed, except Canderous, who was trying not to move.

"What?  Why are you in my bed, Patience?  Wait, where am I?"  Bastila sat up, and looked Canderous right in the face.  "I hope there is an explanation for this," she said icily, and tried to stand up.

"You fainted," he said.  "Sit down before you fall over."

"Why did I faint?"  Bastila sat down again as she realized that her legs still wouldn't support her.

"There are scary things on the ship," said Mission calmly.  "We're all hiding out here."

"No," said Carth, "I'm working.  You're hiding.  Canderous is … what are you even doing?"

"Being a bed, apparently."

"And a very good one," said Mission cheerily.

Bastila looked suspiciously at the bag, and saw Patience shrink away.  "Where are you going?"

"The Hutts want them.  Don't ask, I don't know anymore and I don't want to."

"Are they dead?" asked Patience nervously.

"Yes, very.  The droids, Zaalbar, and Juhani are cleaning out the ship.  The Hutts only want the whole ones."

"Eew," exclaimed Bastila.  "Why are you standing here?  Take those horrible things away."  Bastila waved him away.

Carth shook his head in exasperation and walked to the next docking bay.  He returned in a few minutes, and Canderous was still sitting with the three women in his arms.  "Okay, get up and help me clean, Canderous.  This is ridiculous."

"I'm stuck!"

Carth glared at him.

"Carth?" asked Patience quietly.  "Won't they just come back?"

Carth smiled gently at her.  "No, we put down traps and T3 guarantees that there are none left in the interior wiring."  She looked very soft and lovely, and Carth was trying very hard not to take her in his arms and kiss the tears away.  "We're just going over the nooks and crannies now."

"Do… do you want me to help?" she offered fearfully.

"No!" said Canderous and Bastila at the same time.

Patience looked around in surprise.  "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," said Bastila gently, "but you shouldn't push yourself too hard."  She stood up and pulled Patience from the Mandalorian's lap.  "We'll just sit out here while they work."  She sat down, then with a wicked grin at Carth, drew Patience into her arms, and leaned back on Mission.  "Go on, then.  We'll be right out here, waiting for you."

Carth stared at them.  "This is all your fault," he snapped at Canderous.

"I know!  Isn't it great?"

Carth grabbed him, and dragged him back into the ship to finish cleaning.

 

Finally, the group went to go collect the Star Map from the shared visions.  Mission and Zaalbar stayed with the ship, over her protests that she was old enough to brave the dangers of the Eastern Dune Sea.  Carth just ignored her, and left the droids behind as well.

"Query: Surely the impertinent meatbag does not think I would endanger your chances of success?"

"I just don't want to listen to you," snapped Carth.  "Now stay here and guard the ship."

Despite the fact that he was a droid, HK glared at Carth and remained with the ship without any further protest.  The three Jedi, along with Carth and Canderous, left to go find the secret cave.

Bastila smiled at Carth.  "However did you get that evil droid to follow your commands?  He still refers to me as the 'inferior Jedi' and double-checks every command I give him with Patience."

Canderous grinned.  "He shot it."

"Carth!" Patience exclaimed.  "You did what?"

"We were sparring," said Carth grimly, "and the nasty little rustball tried to pull a fast one, so I shot him."

"You're not supposed to use ranged weapons when you're sparring!"

"Yeah, well, cheating earned his respect.  Let's get a move on, 'superior Jedi.'  I don't want to get lost out here."

"Oh, don't you start that too," snapped Patience.

"Fine, fine," grinned Carth.  "I notice you made some new ribbons," he said conversationally, and Patience ran out of his range, and started talking to Bastila and Juhani about sand, sandfleas, the sunshine, and anything else that caught her eye.  Carth watched her chatter away with a smile.

"I wonder what she'd look like as a Dark Jedi," mused Canderous.

"What?  Why would you even think that?" Carth glared at him.  "Patience would never turn to the Dark side."

"Of course," Canderous agreed, "I was just wondering.  You ever notice how Dark Jedi dress?  They don't wear those stupid concealing robes."  He looked over Patience and Bastila.  "It would be a whole different perspective on following the leader, if you know what I mean."

"You have issues," Carth shook his head.  "Let's just go."

They made their way to Tatooine's Eastern Dune Sea.  "Why couldn't we rent a landspeeder or something?" Patience asked, trying very hard not to whine.

"Because someone spent all our credits on droid parts," said Canderous with a grin.

Patience sighed.  "We could hit the swoop track.  I bet I could win some races, and then we'd have money again."

"No!" said Carth.  "No way."

She looked at him.  "Oh, come on, I'd win and you know it!"

"I am not watching that again.  I thought I was going to have a heart attack every time you took a corner," muttered Carth.

Patience looked at him, and her whole being seemed to light up with joy.

"Well at least you got her to stop whining about walking," grumbled Canderous.

The Eastern Dune Sea looked exactly like the Western Dune Sea, except that landscape here wasn't dominated by a Sand People enclave, it was dominated by a giant cave.

A bone-chilling howl, half-scream and half-growl, echoed across the desert.

"What was that?" asked Juhani nervously.

"That was the Grand Krayt Dragon."  Carth looked around.  "The cave is its lair, obviously, but what made it challenge?"

"You don't think it saw us from all the way over there, do you?" asked Canderous doubtfully.

The krayt dragon, huge and ponderous, rivaling the size of a sandcrawler, emerged slowly from the cave.  Its growl shook the earth, and the sand beneath their feet shifted in response.

"I think it did," said Patience suddenly, watching the sand shiver with every step of the giant beast.

It roared again, and its giant head, covered with thick scales and filled with sharp teeth turned to look directly at them.

"Oh, that's not good," said Bastila.  "How fast do you think it moves?"

The dragon charged with lightning fast speed, its massive webbed feet ideal for traversing the sand.

"Run!" shouted Carth, and the group scattered, except for Patience.

Patience activated her lightsabers, both the same rich shade of violet now, and charged the dragon.

"Patience!  No!"  Carth watched in terror as the tiny woman leapt into the air, and landed on the dragon's back.  The dragon's tail whipped in fury, knocking Canderous from his feet and sent the Mandalorian flying.  Canderous landed heavily, and lay still.

Bastila shouted, distracting the dragon from the prone form, and began leading the dragon away.  Patience held onto one of the dragon's spines and let it carry her away.  With a growl of rage, Juhani ran after them, her Cathar speed easily allowing her to keep pace for a short distance.

Carth ran over to Canderous.  He was badly wounded, both by the force of the blow and the cruel spines in the krayt dragon's tail.  He did what he could to stabilize the Mandalorian.  The cybernetic implants that all Mandalorian warriors had kicked in, and Canderous was able to sit up.

"Oh, figures," growled Canderous.  He coughed, and spat out some blood.  "First big fight, and I go down in the first round.  Where are they?"

Carth and Canderous looked over, where the three Jedi women were tearing the great dragon apart.  In Juhani's case, literally – she was springing on the beast's hindquarters anytime it tried to gather for a charge at Bastila, and would tear away chunks of leathery flesh with her claws.  For her part, Bastila was using her lightsaber to distract the dragon from whipping around or trying to roll so that it could crush the tiny creature on its back.

Patience was bouncing around on the krayt dragon, running along the spine, jumping, flying, her lightsabers flashing violet in the bright Tatooine sunshine.  Her lightsabers ripped into the dual spinal cords of the dragon, making it slow and erratic in its attacks.  She jumped straight up into the air, throwing one of her lightsabers in a glittering arc into the air above her, and landed with her first lightsaber buried in the dragon's neck.  She used the beast's momentum to throw herself into the air again, and caught her second lightsaber, and drove into the beast's neck on the other side.  She pulled herself back up to the dragon's back, and held out her hands, summoning the lightsabers back to her.

With an utterly horrible roar, the dragon's head fell, almost completely severed from the giant body.

"That was amazing," said Canderous.

Carth looked warningly at him.  "Keep your eyes in your head.  She's mine."

"So you keep saying, flyboy."

Bastila ran back to tend to Canderous' wounds, and Patience and Juhani examined the body.

"Find anything interesting?" Carth asked, trying not to let his face show how frightened he had been.

"Look!  Pearls!"  She held out two rounded stones from the dragon's gizzard.  "I bet if I cleaned these off, I could use them in a lightsaber.  They're not really pearls, you know."

Juhani was testing the flesh of the krayt dragon.  "Do you think there's any way we can get some of this back to the ship?  Zaalbar would love to try some."  She helped herself to another piece.  "We should pull off some teeth, too, they would make nice jewelry."

"Well, if you finish what's in the cooler, we can carry some meat back for Zaalbar."  Carth emptied the cooler, and Patience carried the food back to where Bastila and Canderous were sitting.  She set it down and ran back to Carth's side after making sure that Canderous would recover.

"It's like she doesn't even know I exist," Canderous sighed.

"Well, now you know how I feel," snapped Bastila.

Canderous pulled her into his arms and leaned back in the sand.  "I know you exist," he grinned.  "But we're not being serious, remember?"

Bastila made a noise of disapproval, but didn't try to move out of his arms.

"You're sexy when you're jealous," he grinned.  "But I don't want to get sand anywhere it shouldn't."

"Oh, you brute!" Bastila hit him on the shoulder, ignoring his protests of pain.  "Let go of me!  Let go this instant!"

"Is that any way to treat a wounded warrior?"

Carth and Juhani finished stuffing the cooler with as much meat as they could.  Patience pulled out some teeth for Juhani to make a necklace, and one or two for herself, as well as part of a horn.

"What are you going to do with all that?" Carth asked her.

"I'm going to use it on my lightsabers.  The horn would make an excellent grip."  Patience jumped down from the head again.  "It's starting to smell really bad.  Let's go get Bastila's stupid map and get out of here."

"I think Bastila is still making sure Canderous is in working order," said Juhani.

"What?"  Carth looked over at where Canderous and Bastila were lying in the sand.  "By the Maker!  When did that happen?"

Juhani looked at him curiously.  "Their scents have been mingled for some time.  Not as much as that of you and Patience, of course."

"What?  Why 'of course'?"  Carth blushed, and Patience laughed at him.  "Why, you – "

She skipped out of his reach and ran, dancing along the sand and singing a wordless song, completely oblivious to the fact that she had almost single-handedly killed one of the most vicious predators in the known galaxy.

They walked far enough away from the dead dragon to escape the smell, and ate the food while Canderous recovered from his wounds.  A group of Sand People, awed by their prowess, came up humbly and gestured at the dragon.  Patience nodded, indicating that they could have the body.  The Sand People howled in joy, and began cutting it up and carrying it back to their enclave.

Juhani looked on sadly.  "At least we saved some."

"That good?" Canderous asked curiously.

"Oh, I don't think Humans could eat it.  But, yes, it was very good!"  Juhani smiled, her sharp fangs gleaming white in the sun.

"Okay, please stop smiling like that.  You're scaring me," said Carth.  "Let's go to the cave and get this over with.  You ready, Canderous?"

Canderous nodded, and stood up slowly.

"I'm really sorry," said Patience quickly.  "I didn't think about its tail.  Next time, I'll make sure everyone is out of range before I charge."

"No, it was my own fault.  I should have moved out of the way faster.  Don't risk losing a battle just because one person might get hurt."

"I don't want to lose anyone just because I was careless," Patience explained.

"Well, no," Canderous agreed with a grin.  "Now, if it was some epic battle, and you were sacrificing me to ensure victory, that would be different."

"Really," said Carth, "please stop smiling like that.  It's creepy."

Canderous laughed, and began singing a Mandalorian war song as they walked.

"And for the record," Carth added, "we are never doing that again."

"Carth!" Patience exclaimed.  Canderous laughed, and Bastila shook her head.

Finally, they reached the cave.  "It looked closer," Patience panted.  "I don't like this planet."

"This place....  Evil has collected here.  It is a place of darkness."  Juhani looked around, at the corpses of failed hunters and other treasure seekers who had fallen to the dragon.

"Indeed," Bastila looked around the cave.  "This place is strong with the Dark Side."

"How can a place be good or evil?" Patience protested.  "Places don't feel."

"No," Bastila agreed.  "But sometimes, a place where a great evil has occurred will hold the memories of what happened, resonating with the emotions.  In time, the echoes grow until anyone who enters such a place can hear and feel nothing but darkness."

Patience considered.  "Are there also places of light?"  While she spoke, she was searching the bodies, finding random bits of history as they walked.

"Of course.  There is Coruscant, for instance.  The whole world resonates with light."

"Do you think a place could be both dark and light?  Or would they cancel each other out?  Like, light to light, and dark to dark?  Depending on who enters."

Bastila blinked in surprise.  "What an odd question.  No, I don't think so.  I don't think that light and dark can really co-exist."

Canderous looked at Patience.  "Well, not in a place.  Maybe in a person."

Bastila glared at him.  "That's nonsense.  Do you not understand anything about the Force?"

Canderous shrugged.  "You people dress up a serious religion with lots of nonsensical baggage.  Trying to find the truth in it is barely worth the effort."

"That's almost heresy, Mandalorian," said Carth, trying not to be angry.

"Oh, look, look!"  Patience ran up holding a crystal that she had found on the wall.  "Just look at this crystal!  Isn't it amazing?"

"You didn't hear anything we just said, did you?"

"Huh?"  Patience looked at Canderous in confusion, then at Carth and Bastila.  "What?  You guys were arguing about something.  It was boring."

Bastila covered her face with her hands and tried not to laugh.  "You are unbelievable.  Come, let's download the Star Map and get out of here."

Carth added the information from the Star Map to the datapad.  "I wonder how Revan got past the dragon."

Canderous chuckled.  "He probably told it to get out of his way."

Carth grinned.  "You know, you're probably right.  Okay, let's get out of here."  He put the datapad away and they started out of the cave.

"I have to give you credit.  You've led me on quite a hunt."

"Calo Nord," said Canderous in disgust as he saw the bounty hunter at the entrance.  He was surrounded by a troop of mercenaries, who all had their weapons at the ready.  "How did you survive Taris?  I thought you had been crushed when Kang's estate collapsed."

"Oh, that's how they found us," said Carth in disgust.  "He knows we took the Ebon Hawk."

"You mean, stole the Ebon Hawk," snarled Nord.  "You'll pay for that, and for leaving me for dead.  And you, Ordo, you will pay for betraying the Exchange."

"Oh, get over yourself, Nord.  Nobody cares about that crap except for you."

"You aren't going to get away from me.  Not any of you.  Nobody gets away from Calo Nord.  Nobody."

Canderous sighed.  "Are you done talking yet, Nord?  Can we get to the fighting?  We have better things to do."

"You got lucky on Taris," snarled Nord.  The Sith saved you from a slow and gruesome death."

"He's just going to go on, isn't he?" Carth asked, and Canderous nodded.

"Well, the Sith won't be getting in my way this time," Nord laughed.  "I've got a contract with them."  The murderous bounty hunter looked at Bastila, then at Patience.  "Jedi.  Women.  Seems like a waste."

"It's only a waste because you repel women, Nord."

"Canderous!" exclaimed Patience.  "We're kind of outnumbered, maybe we shouldn't be making them angry?"

"What?  He really does repel women.  Not even his own mother liked him."

Calo Nord snarled viciously and raised his arm to throw a grenade, but Canderous was ready for him, and fired his heavy blaster.  The blast knocked Nord from his feet, but didn't get past his shields.

"You're stupid, too," said Canderous with a grin.  "I still wonder how you were keeping your position with Davik Kang.  My first guess was sex, but every time I look at you – "

"Shut up!" Nord shouted.  "Attack them!  Kill them all, except the two Jedi women!"

"Three," said Juhani, whose Cathar stealth had allowed her to sneak around the edge of the cave while everyone had been distracting Nord, and was now right behind him.  "There are three Jedi women."  Her lightsaber flashed, and Nord's shields fell under the blow.

"Thanks," grinned Canderous, and started firing at Calo Nord again before he could get his shields back up.

The fight erupted into complete chaos now.  Bastila using the Force to hurl large groups of mercenaries into the air, Juhani and Patience cutting down mercenaries left and right, while Carth and Canderous were focusing their blaster fire on Calo Nord, preventing him from using his thermal detonators or putting his shields back up.

Nord fell under a rain of blaster fire, and the last mercenaries dropped beneath the whirling blades.

"Just to be sure," muttered Canderous, and fired a blast from his heavy blaster rifle into Nord's head.

Bastila daintily wiped away a bloodstain from her boots.  "Your sense of timing is atrocious."

"Yeah, yeah, I just didn't want him to get up again and throw a thermal detonator after us.  Sorry."

Carth pulled a datapad and some credit chits from Nord's body.  "Records, dates, oh, hey, the Sith paid a lot for you, Bastila.  This order came from Malak himself."

"What an unpleasant thought," said Bastila softly.

"Don't worry, if all his bounty hunters are like this, we'll be both safe and rich," grinned Canderous.

"Yay!" Patience cheered as she exited the cave.  "They came in landspeeders!"   She hopped into one.

"Oh, no, no way.  Move, you are not driving," exclaimed Carth.

Patience grumbled but slid over and let Carth have the pilot's seat.  Juhani and Canderous climbed in the back, and Bastila squeezed herself next to Patience.

"I think this would be easier if I sat on your lap," said Patience.

"Yes," Bastila agreed as Patience rearranged herself, "so long as the thought of it doesn't make Carth crash or Canderous fall off."

"Very funny," snapped Carth.  "Will you just settle in so we can....  Where is your other hand?"

"Just drive," said Bastila firmly.


	17. Chains, Silver and Golden

They sold the landspeeder to their Jawa friends, who wouldn't be too particular about ownership, and secured a good price by telling them that not only was the Great Dragon dead, but that there were more landspeeders just outside the cave.

Carth smiled at the little Jawas running around Patience in their glee before they ran off to scavenge the remains of Nord's mercenary army.

"Onasi?  Carth Onasi?  Is that really you?"

Carth turned, and his jaw dropped.  "Jordo?"

His old wingmate stretched out a hand in welcome.  "It is you!  How have you been, flyboy?  What are you doing on the ground?  I thought for sure you were still fighting the good fight on some ship or another."

"I was," Carth grinned as they shook hands.  "I crashed.  It's a long story.  And how have you been, Lefty?"

"Passing good.  I never really recovered from my wounds, so I'm a civilian now.  I do runs for Czerka.  Who's the pretty pair of eyes?"

"My name is Patience Keçrye," she smiled, and shook hands.  "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"So, flyboy, is she the reason you have dirt on your feet?  If she is, she's a good one."

Carth laughed.  "Oh, I'm not grounded.  I'll be back where I belong in a day or two.  How is your family, Jordo?  Did they all make it out all right?"

Jordo's eyes fell for a moment.  "They're good.  Everyone made it out except the little one, she didn't… like Morgana… there wasn't any hospital or anything for the wounded."

"I'm so sorry," said Carth, his voice tight and hurt.  "I didn't know."

"No, it's all right, man, we haven't seen each other in years.  I only knew about Morgana because I saw them taking her away, after you left to rejoin the fleet.  At least your boy made it out alive."

"What?"

Jordo looked at him in surprise.  "I – I thought you knew."

Carth shook his head in shock.  "No, I had no idea.  Dustil – he's alive?  Are you sure?  He was missing after the attack, I looked everywhere for him.  I thought… I thought he was dead."

Jordo nodded slowly.  "I saw him on my last run.  He didn't recognize me, of course.  We never spent enough time at home for our kids to recognize us," he said bitterly.  "He's the spitting image of Morgana, now.  And he's still using your name.  That's why I thought you knew."

"Where?  Where did you see him, Jordo?" Carth demanded.

"You really don't know?" said Jordo, confused.  "He's on Korriban.  At the Academy."

"What?" Carth shouted.

"He's a student, at the Academy.  He's a Sith."

Carth just stared in disbelief.  "No.  He can't, he would never…."

"I thought you knew," said Jordo again.  "How could he have gotten there without anyone telling you he was alive?"

Carth shook his head.  "I don't – I don't know.  I have to go find him, this… I'm sorry, Jordo, I have to go."  Carth turned and walked away, heading back to the Ebon Hawk.

"I hope everything works out," said Jordo nervously, and Patience smiled gratefully at him before she turned to run after Carth.

"Well, I guess I know where we should go next," she said sweetly as soon as she caught up to him.

"What?  No, you don't have to.  Not just for me."

Patience shrugged.  "We have to go there anyway.  It's on the list.  Might as well."  She smiled at him, trying to reach past his darkness and pain.

Carth pulled her into his arms.  "Thank you, Patience.  Thank you so much.  All this time, I thought he was dead!  He must be a man by now, if he's been planetside all this time."

"No hyperspace travel locking his aging process?  Keeping him trapped in the body of a handsome, loving man?" she whispered to him.  Carth smiled at her, and she reached up for him.  "A loving man who could probably really use a kiss?"

"I like the way you think, little woman."  He kissed her, softly at first, then with all the hunger and need that he had kept pent up ever since they had first met; all the jealousy that Canderous' admiring glances stirred; all the admiration that her wonderful spirit aroused; all the desire that her slight frame and delicate beauty brought to life in him.  Patience melted in his arms, warm and soft, clinging to him and making sweet noises of surrender.

"Carth," she whispered, stunned by the wonder of his kiss.  "I … " she blushed, unable to say the words, and laid her head against his chest.

He kissed her again, gently this time.  "I do, too."  He looked down at her, shy and sweet in his arms.  "Let's get back to the ship."

 

Carth came up from the galley, and checked the garage.  There was no sign of Patience.  He idly wondered where she had gone.  Shopping, most likely, he told himself, and he sighed to think of how quickly she could burn through all the credits they had just earned.  He finished his naranja, and tossed the peel down the incinerator shaft before heading to his cabin.

The lights were dim as always, but not so dim that he didn't see her, sitting nervously on his bed, her little feet bare and tapping a little rhythm against the side of the bed, clad only in her shorts and one of his shirts, her hands twisted in the sheets, her hair held back in a ponytail as always.

"Hi," said Patience softly.  "Can I ask you a question?"

Carth tore his eyes away from her, and tried to regain his self-control.  "Sure."

She smiled at his reaction, and blushed slightly.  "Was she very beautiful?"

Carth smiled.  "She was beautiful, but not the way you are.  She wasn't at all like you."  He gazed admiringly at Patience again.  "She was brave and stubborn, but … in a lot of ways, we weren't really right for each other.  But she was too stubborn to give up, and not brave enough to follow me."  He walked over to her, and drew her into his arms.  "But I loved being in love with her.  It gave me a connection to my home, something to dream about at night when I closed my eyes.  I would see her, and Dustil, and our house on Telos, every night in my dreams.  Until she died.  Then all I could think about was how foolish I had been, how I had abandoned her, and how I needed to get revenge for her death and all my pain.  And then…."  He kissed her lips, gently, reverently.  "Everything changed."

He gently tugged the ribbon away, and heard her laugh softly, joyously.  He kissed her hair, her ears, her lips, worshipping and loving her at the same time.  She kissed him, her hands around his neck, running over his back and through his soft, dark hair.  She slowly moved back to the bed, drawing him with her, lying down slowly so that he was over her, his hands on her waist, holding her close to him.

Patience smiled at him, ran her hand along his stubble, and kissed him again.

He kissed her neck again, moved so that he could whisper in her ear.  "Now, I'm in love with the most beautiful woman that I've ever known, one who is brave to the point of insanity, kind, generous, loving," he kissed her with each word, "and yet, for all her strength and skill, still needs someone to watch over her."

"Oh, Carth," she whispered softly, and kissed him, dug her hands into his hair, pressed herself against him, savoring the feel of his body on hers.  He moaned in response, grinding his hips against hers.

"You don't remember being in love with anyone, do you?" he asked.

She kissed him before answering.  "I've never been in love before.  I don't think you would ever forget that feeling.  No matter how far apart you are, or how long it's been, you would never forget."

"I think you're right.  I could never forget you," he whispered, and she smiled joyously.

"Even if you lost everything, if you really loved someone, you would still feel it, you would miss something about them – their eyes, their scent.  You would go crazy trying to remember, wouldn't you?  And you'd never stop looking.  I don't feel anything like that.  Whatever I had, if I even had anything," she giggled, "it wasn't love.  Probably someone who was glad to get rid of that crazy woman!"

Carth laughed with her, and then kissed her again.  It was more likely that someone had died, and that she didn't remember the loss, he told himself.  No one would ever forget Patience, or give her up if they had a choice.  He kissed her hair again, breathed in her scent, trying to imprint everything about her in his memory.  He returned to her lips, kissing the velvet softness of them, tracing the outline of the perfect curve of her lips with kisses.  She slid her hands under his shirt, ran her hands along the muscles of his back, held him close.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed softly, and she froze.  "Patience?  Are you all right?"

She pushed him away, and sat up, breathing shallowly, barely holding back a sudden flood of rage.  The memory replayed in her mind.  A lover's eyes, dark grey and wild with passion, telling her that he loved her, that she was beautiful.  And she knew that he had lied, she knew that now.  But she didn't know who he was, if he was even alive.  Had they parted as friends?  She doubted it.  Did it even matter?

"Patience?"  Carth stroked her hair, and she turned to him, her beautiful blue eyes wild with emotion.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.  "I just remembered something."

"Doesn't seem like a good memory," he smiled wryly.

Patience smiled sadly.  "No, it wasn't.  He lied to me," she said softly.  "That was all I remembered, and I was so angry.  I hate that, I hate when things make me so mad and I don't even know why.  I feel like I'm going to lose control of myself and do something horrible."  She whispered something that he couldn't hear.

Carth pulled her into his arms.  "I didn't catch that last part."

"I'm afraid I'm going to do something horrible, and then you'll hate me."

Carth smiled at her weakness.  "Send me a Sentinel," he sang softly, "someone to watch over me."  He kissed her again.  "I will never hate you, Patience.  If I see you slipping, I'll stop you.  If I see you falling, I'll catch you.  I'm not going to let you go, and I'm not lying to you."

She smiled gratefully at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and she threw her arms around him.

Carth held her tightly, and kissed her hair again, then lay down on the bed with her still in his arms.  He pulled a pillow behind his head, and made himself comfortable.  Patience snuggled up to him, and he could feel a silent tear or two fall to his chest.  "Get some rest.  I'll still be here when you wake up."

"Carth?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you."

He kissed her hair again, and he held her in his arms, peaceful and loving, until they fell asleep.


	18. Dark Enough To See the Stars

"Sith Academy, huh."  Canderous looked at Patience critically.

"What?"  She looked at herself.

"Well, it's going to be full of wannabe kids who ran away from home before being sent to the Jedi and ex-Jedi, all trying to be Sith.  And a bunch of Republic defectors who get paid for cracking skulls."

"Yes," said Bastila.  "Juhani and I might be recognized by someone.  We should stay on board the ship."

Carth nodded in agreement.  "But no one will recognize Patience.  I hope."

Bastila shook her head.  "No one knows her.  She will be safe."

"Yeah, but," Canderous said slowly, "she doesn't look like a Sith.  Or a Sith wannabe."

"Well, of course not," said Patience with a smile.

"And you don't look like a Jedi, and definitely not an ex-Jedi."

Patience considered.  "I don't understand."

Carth glared at him.  "You just want her to dress like a Sith tramp."

"Well, yes, but I'm right, flyboy.  She needs to wear something more Sith-y.  Is that a word?"  Canderous looked at Patience again.  "You look too good, is the problem.  No one will believe you're a bad guy.  But if you dress a little closer to the part, you'll be able to get away with your normal good girl stuff, because they'll all think you're such a badass you don't need to prove yourself."

"Oh."  Patience thought seriously for a moment.  "You know, you're right."  She frowned.  "I don't really have anything else to wear, though.  And we're almost at Korriban."

"Well, let's go see what we can put together," said Mission with a grin.  "Come on, girls, this is serious business!"  She pulled Patience away from the table, and Bastila and Juhani followed her out of the room.

Carth glared at Canderous again.  "I can't believe that worked."

Canderous smiled, and fingered the chit in his pocket that he had already used on Mission to ensure her compliance with his scheme.  "I'm still totally right, though.  Admit it, you want to see her dressed up as a Sith tramp."  Canderous grinned.  "Maybe you can save the outfit for a special night."

Carth made a noise of disgust and left to go check the navicomputer.

"Carth?"

He turned, to see Patience standing nervously in the doorway.  She was wearing a long black Sith cloak, of finer material than the common Jedi cloaks.  Beneath it, she was wearing skintight black and red fighting leathers, cut low in the front to reveal soft violet undergarments against her skin, and the curve of her magnificent breasts.  Black leather high heels on her tiny feet completed the outfit.

"Is this too much?"  She looked down at herself.  "I checked, I can still fight in these.  But do I look right?"

Carth was still speechless.

"Carth?"

"I'm going to kill him," he muttered.  He recognized the leathers from the store on Tatooine, the cloak had probably come from one of the Sith that had attacked them there.  But how had Canderous found underclothes and shoes in her size?  "Come here."

Confused, she walked up to the pilot's seat, and Carth pulled her into his lap.

"You look very dangerous, and sexy," he said as he kissed her.  "But you're not going to fool anyone with that sweet, adorable look on your face."  He kissed her again, gentle and loving.

"So you do think I look sexy in this," she smiled.

"It's a bit over the top," he grinned.  "I think you looked sexier wearing my shirt."

Patience blushed, and kissed his lips, then his eyes, before returning to his lips for a passionate kiss that left them both flushed and panting.

"But the leather is very nice," he murmured as he caressed her shapely legs.  "Don't get me wrong."

Patience laughed.

"What are you two doing?" Mission demanded.

"I'm helping her with her disguise," Carth explained.

"Her disguise?" said Mission.  "What about your disguise?"

"What?"

"Didn't you tell him?"  Mission looked at Patience.  "Or were you too busy getting all sticky?"

Carth twisted around in his chair and looked at Mission.  "What in the name of the Light are you wearing?"

"I'm wearing my Sith disguise, idiot.  Now get out of that chair and come to the cargo hold so we can dress you properly.  Or are you just going to stay on the ship?"  Mission didn't seem to be at all bothered by her black skintight polymer outfit that showed every curve of her nubile body.

"Where did you even get that?" Carth demanded.

"The skank that ran off with my older brother left it behind.  Bastila altered it to fit me."

Patience slid off Carth's lap.  "You should go and get dressed," she smiled.  "I want to see what Mission has in store for you."

Carth shook his head, and followed Mission to the cargo hold.  Canderous was sitting in the main cabin, drinking a beer and checking his armor.  "I guess that's your idea of a Sith disguise?"

Canderous grinned.  "Of course.  I hear Mandalorian bodyguards are in great demand.  Especially," he leaned back as Patience entered the cabin, "for great bodies."

"I'm gonna kill him," Carth muttered again, and went to the cargo hold.

 

"At least the Sith are orderly," grunted Canderous as they waited for a dock official to inspect the ship and collect docking fees.  He was wearing his full battle armor for the first time since he'd joined Patience in escaping Taris.  He was tall and imposing, as all Mandalorians, born or bred, tend to be.  His armor was spotless, the traditional grey of a Mandalorian Commander's armor, decorated with victory stripes from a dozen campaigns and emblazoned with a score of Basilisk claw stripes, indicating successful Basilisk war droid attacks.

The Sith official came up the ramp, and stopped when confronted by the Mandalorian and the protocol droid.  "What is the purpose of your visit to Korriban?"

"My employer wants to visit the Sith Academy," Canderous answered.

The Sith official looked at him.  "Whatever for?"

Canderous heard Patience approaching, and smiled to himself beneath the helmet.  "To see if there is anything for her to learn."

With impeccable timing, Patience entered the bay.  The official immediately removed his hat, and almost knelt before he caught himself in confusion, and simply bowed very low.  Patience smiled politely at him.  "Oh, hello.  Did you need us to pay any fees?"  Somewhere she had found a pair of elbow-length black leather gloves to complete her outfit, and Juhani had made her a necklace of dragon's teeth.  She looked beautiful and sinister.  Bastila had put her dark brown hair in a series of complicated braids, held in place with diamond-studded golden pins.

The official nervously shook his head.  "No, ma'am – mistress – you are not a Sith?"

Canderous grinned at his confusion.  Carth had painted her lightsabers black, and she had changed the crystals on Bastila's advice from her custom violet to the standard bright red of a Sith blade.

Patience smiled graciously.  "Not at the moment, no.  I do intend to visit the Academy, however.  Will that be a problem?"

"I – I am not certain, ma'am."  The official swallowed nervously.  "Entrance to the Academy is controlled by Master Wynn and Mistress Ban.  We do not interfere with the Academy."

"Ah," said Patience calmly, "And where can I find them?"

"Mistress Ban is usually in the Cantina, testing prospective students."

"Then that is where we shall go."  She beckoned to Canderous to follow her.  "HK, kill anyone who tries to board the ship without my permission."  Patience walked down the ramp, her robes swirling behind her and showing off her shapely, leather-clad legs.

"Confirmation: With pleasure, Master."  HK glared at the Sith official, who promptly scampered off the ramp.

Canderous marched behind her, his weapon at the ready.  "You realize that the droid will take you seriously, right?"

"Hmm?"  Patience had stopped to examine a merchant's stall, and was examining an interesting crystal.

"Never mind."  Canderous shook his head.  "There's something wrong with you."

"What?"  Patience sighed and set down the crystal, and the merchant immediately handed it to her as a gift.  "Oh, thank you!" she smiled brightly at the Rodian, who bowed to her.  "Wasn't that nice of him?" she said sweetly to Canderous, showing him the new lightsaber crystal.  "I'm going to upgrade my lightsaber as soon as I can!  This will almost double the power output on my off-hand!" She pulled off the concealing Sith cloak and handed it to Canderous.  "I'm going to trip over this thing," she complained.  "These heels are nice, though.  Oh, look at that!"  She bent over a pile of droid parts.

Canderous was torn between asking her if she was all right, and staring at her shapely form.  The merchants nearby had no such issues, and fell over themselves getting an eyeful of the beautiful, sexy woman in black leather.

Patience – the Dark Patience – smiled and flirted her way through the marketplace of Dreshdae, admiring small, expensive things and collecting them as gifts.  They entered the main port building, where students from the Academy and prospective students clashed.

"Well, hello," leered a young Twi'lek male in a Sith uniform.  "You look like a sensible person.  This little schutta here," he kicked a Human lying on the floor, "thinks that he can make it as a Sith.  What do you think I should do to him?"  He gestured to one of his friends standing behind him.  "Shardaan here thinks we should kill him.  What do you think?"

"Canderous, dent the wall with their heads," she commanded, and then ignored them as the Mandalorian warrior proceeded to beat them senseless.  She knelt down next to the young man lying on the floor.  "What are you doing here?" she asked him quietly.

He sobbed in pain, and whispered something about revenge.

Patience patted his head comfortingly, and his pain melted away.  "Go home," she said softly.  "Go home to your mother and the others you left behind, little fool.  This is no place for you."  She helped him to his feet, and shooed him away before he could speak.  "Go on."

Canderous had just finished knocking the last Sith student unconscious.

Patience waved over one of the guards.  She pointed at the battered students.  "Please don't leave this trash lying on the floor," she said sweetly, and continued down the hallway.

Canderous followed her to the cantina.  He decided to take the path of least resistance and watched her admiringly as she walked.

The Sith Mistress turned out to be a beautiful Twi'lek woman.  She looked over Patience and the Mandalorian behind her.

"You wish to become a Sith?" asked Mistress Ban.

"No," said Patience calmly.  "I wish to learn."

Mistress Ban looked curiously at her.  "Who are you?"

"Does it matter?"

The Twi'lek shook her head.  "Not very much, after all.  You will be someone new once you absorb the truth of the Sith teachings.  However, not everyone is worthy."

"How do I prove myself worthy?"

Mistress Ban looked at the Mandalorian.  "Why do you have a bodyguard?"

"I saved his life," said Patience.  "Now it is mine."

"Indeed," said the Twi'lek.  "However, we do not permit Mandalorians into the Academy, for obvious reasons."

Patience frowned.  "Can I bring someone else then?"

Mistress Ban smiled.  "How many slaves do you have?"

"I get bored easily," Patience smiled.

Canderous was very glad that no one could see his physical reaction to her words and her wicked smile.

The Sith Mistress laughed.  "Well, then.  I don't see any reason to make this easy for you.  If you bring me a Sith Medallion, then I'll let you into the Academy."

Patience rolled her eyes.  "Where am I supposed to get a Sith Medallion?"

"Ask one of the students," sneered Mistress Ban.

Patience sighed, and beckoned to Canderous to follow her out of the cantina.

"Did you get accepted?" asked a nervous young Human woman at the entrance.

"Why are you trying to be a Sith?" Patience asked her.

"For the power," the woman smiled.  "I'll crush my enemies, and do whatever I –"

Patience slapped her, and the woman staggered under the blow, falling to her knees.  "Go home."

"What?  No, I'm going to be a –"

Patience raised her hand again, and the woman cringed in fear.  "Go.  Home."  Patience said each word slowly and carefully, holding the woman's eyes with her own.

With a terrified sob, the woman turned and fled.

Patience shook her head in exasperation.  "Who let all these kids in here?"

"There she is!" someone shouted.  A group of angry students gathered in the hallway.  "The bitch and her Mandalorian dog!"

Canderous grinned under his mask.  "This will be fun."

Patience turned to the group of students.  "One of you has a Sith Medallion."  They didn't answer, but paused in their attack.  "Canderous, right.  I'll take the left."

He grunted.  "A little unfair, but you're the boss."  There were slightly more students on the left.

They charged together, throwing punches and kicks.  Hers were crippling, targeted to disable.  His were stunning, dropping the students one after another.  Within minutes, all the students who had tried to attack her were sprawled unconscious in the hallway.  Patience searched them, and found a Sith Medallion on one of the girls.  She stuck the Sith Medallion into the pocket of her armor.

"All right, let's get back to the ship.  Since you can't come with me, I'm going to bring Carth."

Canderous groaned in disappointment.  "Unfair."

"Don't be sad," Patience smiled, "Someday, you'll get a pretty little Jedi woman of your very own!"

Canderous chuckled.  "You promise?"

"I'm sure of it.  She might even dress like a Sith for you, but I can't promise that."

He laughed out loud, and followed her back to the spaceport, and Patience smiled to herself as she realized that he didn't believe her.

"I'm not wearing that," said Carth flatly.

"Oh, come on," Mission pleaded.  "At least try it on!"

Carth held up the blood-red leather in disgust.  "No.  No way."

"How about this?" Bastila giggled, and held up some studded black leather straps.

"How about I just wear what I'm wearing?"

"You look like a scruffy pilot," Mission complained.

Patience walked in and gave Carth a sweet kiss on the cheek.  "I like the way you look."

He put his arms around her, and gave her a kiss in return.  "Thank you.  How is your mission going so far?"

"Well," sighed Patience, "I've got a Sith Medallion, and we can enter the Academy now.  But I can't take Canderous with me."

"In fact," grinned Canderous as he pulled off his armor, "I've been requested to stay as far away from the Sith students as possible.  I keep hitting them."

Bastila stared at him.

"Hey, at least I'm not the one who keeps sending them home."

"Patience!" Bastila exclaimed.  "You're not supposed to be attracting that kind of attention!"

Patience frowned.  "Who even started this silly Academy?  They're all a bunch of dumb kids.  They don't know anything about being alive, let alone being Sith or Jedi."

"Revan and Malak built this Academy over the ruins of an older one.  They brought captured Jedi here and turned them into Sith."

Patience shook her head.  "Well, that's not what they have here now.  So yes, when I came across scared little brats trying to be mean and thinking that made them Sith, I sent them home."

"She's not kidding," grinned Canderous.  "When one of them cried that she didn't have enough credits for passage, Patience got a transport captain to take the girl for free."

Juhani looked at Patience in admiration, and Bastila sighed.

"Do the words 'low profile' mean anything to you?" Carth asked with a grin.

Patience turned around.  "Not with these pants making everyone stare at my butt."

"She's not kidding about that either," grinned Canderous.  "You're going to have your work cut out for you, flyboy."

T3 beeped questioningly at her.

"Oh, I don't see why not," Patience agreed.  "You can come."

Carth looked at her.

"What?  He can open doors for us.  Or there might be security that we need to get past."

"He just wants to come on the chance that he'll find a Jedi that he can bring home."

T3 squeaked indignantly.

"Liar," said Bastila and Carth at the same time.

Patience laughed.  "Let's go and get this over with."

Mission did the restocking, with Zaalbar in tow, and proudly bragged that she was a servant of the beautiful non-Sith that had turned so many heads earlier.  Carth and T3 followed Patience to the Sith Academy, while everyone else stayed near the ship.

"Where did you even learn Binary?" Carth wondered.

Patience shrugged.  "I have no idea.  Why don't you know Binary?" she countered.  "You spent all that time on ships and in space.  There were droids everywhere."

T3 beeped a comment.

"Oh, that's not very nice, T3.  I mean, Binary is hard!" she protested.

T3 responded with another series of beeps, clicks and boops, and Patience giggled in response.

"Oh, this is going to be great," Carth grumbled.  "Gang up on me, will you...."

"Just come on," Patience said.  They continued down the walkway, heading towards the entrance of the Sith Academy.

T3 burbled something.

"Shut up," blushed Patience.

Carth glared at the little utility droid.  "Aren't you due for a memory wipe?"

The droid beeped in panic and scooted over behind Patience.

"Leave him alone, Carth!  Don't be so mean."  The droid clicked something, and then looked at her.  "He's just grumpy," Patience explained.  "You be nice to him, too."

T3 beeped once in agreement, and continued following Patience.

Carth shook his head.  "This is crazy.  This can't possibly work.  How are we going to get away with pretending to be Sith hopefuls?"

Patience shrugged.  "Just make it up as we go along, I guess.  Hello, there," she greeted the guard politely.  "Mistress Ban said I could come in if I got a medallion, so here you go," she held out the Sith Medallion.  "Ooops."  She rubbed off the bloodstain, and laughed nervously.

The guard at the door barely glanced at it.  "Who are they?"

"I'm the future father of her children," said Carth calmly.

Patience turned bright red.

"Of course," said the guard, and opened the doors to the Sith Academy.

They walked in without saying anything until the huge door had closed behind them, at which point Carth and T3 burst out laughing.  Patience smacked Carth on the shoulder.

"What is wrong with you!"

"The look on your face..."  Carth couldn't finish the sentence for laughing.

"And you!" said Patience to the little droid, "Don't you encourage him!"

T3 beeped happily, and Patience gave up.

A Mirialan student glanced at them curiously as they entered.  "Aren't you the woman who was beating up people earlier?"

"Yes," Patience smiled.  "And I got rid of some people who were entirely unsuitable."

The Mirialan looked curiously at her.

"What are you reading?" Patience asked him, pointing to the datapad in his hands.

"Philosophy of the States, by Kat'van Orlis."

Patience clasped her hands in joy.  "Oh, I loved that book," she smiled.  "Have you read her series of monographs on applied government?  She's so thorough!"

The Mirialan blinked in surprise, and they started discussing various forms of government.  Carth watched her in surprise.  Patience really had read the book.  The conversation rapidly went over his head, as they started discussing provincial rule and colonial expansion, and he settled for admiring her shapely form.

"Ah, so you made it," said Mistress Ban.  "And is this another one of your slaves?"  She looked admiringly at Carth.  "I can't complain about your taste."

Patience grinned.  "I hear you have a very large library here."  The Mirialan bowed politely and excused himself, promising to finish the conversation later.

Mistress Ban nodded.  "Of course, and I see that you will make good use of it.  First, however, you must be admitted properly.  Come with me, I will introduce you to Master Wynn.  He is the head of the Academy.  Tell your slaves not to speak in his presence, he's rather short-tempered."

Patience shook a finger warningly at Carth and T3, grinning.  Carth shook his head, and they followed the Twi'lek Sith into a large central room.

Master Uthar Wynn was a middle-aged, tall, sparsely built Human.  He was bald, with purple tattoos covering his scalp.

Patience tilted her head, trying to find a memory that matched his appearance, but failed.

"This is the one I was speaking of, Master Wynn."  Mistress Ban bowed low, and Patience bowed politely as well.

Master Wynn looked curiously at her.  His eyes were dark yellow, corrupted by the Dark Side.  "Greetings," he said slowly.  "So, you have come to learn, have you?"

"Yes," said Patience, somewhat absently.  "Wasn't there a different Master here, once?"

"Indeed," said Master Wynn calmly.  "My predecessor, Jorak Uln.  As is the way of the Sith, I overthrew him."

Patience nodded.  "So you weren't in charge here when the Academy was rebuilt."

Master Wynn smiled.  "No, I'm afraid I can't regale you with any tales of meeting Revan and Malak.  I was only a student in those days, seeking to learn.  Just as you are."  He looked curiously at the small woman before him.  "You have been a Jedi?"

Patience shrugged.  "I have been taught the ways and the rules."

Master Wynn smiled again.  "But it is not enough, is it?  So arbitrary, these foolish rules."  He looked at the handsome man standing just behind her.  "Forbidden to love.  Forbidden to have pleasures.  And why?"

"Because they say love weakens a Jedi's resolve," said Patience shortly, and started pacing back and forth.  "Foolish!  Shortsighted.  What good does it do?  It doesn't teach restraint, it doesn't encourage denial.  It's unnatural!"

"Indeed," agreed Master Wynn.  "Why not encourage Force dynasties?"

"It would offer stability in times of crisis," Patience began, and Carth settled back to watch as she began discussing Force bloodlines with Master Wynn.  She was eloquent, sparkling, beautiful.  She was also dangerously persuasive, and Carth found himself wondering if she really thought having Force-sensitive rulers and hereditary governments would be best for the galaxy.

Master Wynn laughed.  "Normally, we ask students to prove themselves by earning a certain amount of prestige.  By performing acts that show their understanding of the Dark Side, we can get a better sense of the kind of Sith a student will be."  He smiled at Patience.  "I can see you will be a very dangerous Sith indeed."  He beckoned to one of the guards.  "Escort our new student and her servants to her rooms."

The guard bowed, and led Patience away.

Carth followed, and admitted to himself that Canderous was right about the Sith outfit.  It wasn't that it fit her perfectly – it more that she fit the look perfectly.  Despite – or perhaps, because of her height, she moved confidently and easily, as if she expected everyone to be watching her.  Her beauty shone out, but he missed her sweetness.

The guard led them to a room at the end of a hall, and Carth put down the bag that Mission had packed for her.  The guard left, and Carth shut the door.

"How was I?" she asked with a happy smile.  "Was I impressive?"

Carth pulled her into a kiss without answering, and pulled out one of the hairpins.

"Carth!" Patience protested.  "I'll never get those back up again!"

"Too bad," he whispered hoarsely, and continued pulling out hairpins and undoing the elaborate braids.  "It's beautiful, but it's not really you, is it?"

Patience smiled into his kisses.  "No, it really isn't."  She held him close, savored his strength and his goodness.  "But this is, Carth."  She kissed him.

"This is a dangerous game, Patience.  Are you sure you want to do this?"

She threw back her head and laughed joyously.  "But it's so much fun!"  She kissed him again.  "Stop being so serious and glum."

T3 beeped warningly, and someone knocked on the door.

Carth opened the door, and Patience straightened her shirt.

"Your pardon," said the guard humbly, "but Master Wynn would like to speak further with you.  Alone."

"Of course," said Patience sweetly, and twisted her hair back up into a bun.  She smiled reassuringly at Carth, and followed the guard to Master Wynn's room.

The Master's quarters were large, but ascetic.  Patience looked idly around the room as she entered.

"You disapprove," said Master Wynn.  He was sitting at his desk, and rose slowly to welcome her.

"I prefer to be comfortable when I am rest," said Patience calmly, "but I cannot deny that your austerity is impressive."  She ran a hand along the shelves of books in his room.  "If I were honest with myself, I would admit that I need nothing beyond a few books."

Master Wynn smiled.  "Please, have a seat."

Patience sat down carefully on one of the stone benches.

"You interest me.  You bear the marks of a Jedi, but the mind of a Sith.  Or perhaps…."  His voice trailed off, and he didn't finish the thought.  "Do you know the Code of the Sith?"

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion.  Through passion, I gain strength.  Through strength, I gain power.  Through power, I gain victory.  Through victory, my chains are broken.  The Force shall free me."  Her soft voice rang with barely suppressed power.

Master Wynn had closed his eyes as she spoke, and sat down again, facing her.  "And what do these words mean to you, seeker?"

Patience smiled.  "They are wrong, of course."

Master Wynn looked at her in surprise, but she went on.

"Just as the Code of the Jedi is wrong.  And yet, the two do not match.  They do not match," she repeated, unable to hide her frustration.  "Something is missing from our understanding of the Force that makes us see the whole world as Light and Dark, even when we know full well that it is not."  She stood, unable to keep herself from moving as she spoke, and began pacing up and down.  "How can the Jedi claim to have been the first Force users, and that the Sith are the ones who fell away?  That goes against the history of every sentient species in the galaxy.  No sentients have ever found a new destructive power without using it to kill their enemies first.  Not one."

Master Wynn looked at her in surprise.  Such a simple fact, and yet, no one had ever realized it before.

He didn't interrupt her, and she went on.  "The Sith were first, and the Jedi would have appeared afterwards, in the wake of civilization.  But that's not what history tells us."

"No, our history shows the clear signs of Jedi guidance from the first days of civilization.  All of known space has felt the gentle hand of the Jedi," said Master Wynn sarcastically.  "Stifling growth, repressing conflict, impressing their dogma on everyone they encounter, tearing apart families to preserve their control over all Force users."

Patience paused, and struggled with a sudden glimpse of memory.  Of herself running down the hallway of a ship to find her father.  Of finding strength on the lips of the man she thought she loved.  "Why passion?" she asked suddenly, half to herself.  "Why not love?  Why isn't love alone strong enough?"

Master Wynn smiled gently.  "There is too much submission in love.  It is strong, yes.  True love, between equals, that would give one the strength to hold on beyond death, for example.  But true love always carries with it that pause, that moment of thought where one wonders what is best for the one you love.  Passion does not give you that breathing space.  Passion can be hate or love – or both at the same time.  It is fire and ice, light and dark.  All the strongest emotions can be reduced to passion."

"Hate and love," she said slowly.  Another memory, fainter than the one before, as if she was trying to hide it from herself.  Of her screams of rage, a challenge to a lover that she hated.  She held her hands to her head for a moment.

"Peace is a lie, is it not?  Unrest, striving, seeking – this is what causes progress in the galaxy.  Those who would be content to sit at home, studying scrolls, what will they learn?  Those who live in serene peace, who settle and submit, what heroes can they have?  It is conflict that drives the greatest achievements.  Wounds teach us how to heal, war teaches us the value of peace, suffering shows us our true strength.  Without conflict, we are nothing."

"But to live in a state of constant conflict is as bad as living in a state of constant peace.  All sentient beings – those of Human descent especially – need time to rest between fights.  We need quiet times of contemplation to process what we have learned, or we will simply make the same mistakes over and over again."

Master Wynn nodded.  "Most Force users, however, are content to reach a certain plateau with their strengths, and to remain there.  I suspect you are not such a one.  But I am not certain what it is that you wish to achieve."

Patience frowned.  "I don't know either, I just know that I haven't found it yet."

"And you cannot convince yourself to stop looking?"

"How?" she burst out in frustration.  "How can anyone see things, and know that they are wrong, and not do anything about it?"

"A healthy sense of self-preservation might help," said Master Wynn, "but I sense that you are extremely deficient in that respect."

Patience glanced at him in shock, then laughed.  "Yes, I suppose I am."

Someone knocked at the door, and Master Wynn rose to speak to a guard.  Patience noticed a passcard on the floor by the desk, and quickly put it into her pocket.

Master Wynn turned back to her.  "I regret that I must attend to a slight disturbance among the students.  Perhaps we could continue this discussion at a later time?"

"I would like that," Patience smiled.  Master Wynn nodded, and she returned to her quarters.

"What did the Master want?" Carth asked.

"A new mistress," she grinned.  "I think he's bored with his Twi'lek now."  She kissed Carth sweetly.  "Either that, or I'm very interesting."

"A little of both, I think," Carth grinned, "I wonder if he'd still be interested if he knew that you could easily be distracted by something shiny or some flowers."

"That's not true," she pouted, and then suddenly noticed a bouquet of violets and daisies on the table.  "Flowers!  Where did you find those?"  She blushed as Carth burst out laughing.  "You jerk."  Patience pretended to hit him.  "Here, T3, look at this."  She handed the passcard to the little droid.  "Is it useful?"

While T3 examined the passcard, Patience gently touched the wildflowers and lifted the bouquet so that she could smell them.  Carth smiled as he watched her, and she blushed slightly.

 

The young man looked up as Patience entered his room.  "You have petals in your hair."

"Oh?"  Patience nervously grinned and pulled out some more petals.  "You're Dustil Onasi, right?"

"Yes, and you're the new student that has Mistress Ban's brain tails in a twist."

Patience looked carefully at him.  Dustil was tall, not as tall as his father, and tending a little towards stoutness.  He didn't look like his father at all, but there was a distinct resemblance in the set of the mouth.  It was hard to think of him as Carth's son, given his planet-aged appearance compared to Carth's hyperspace-locked age.

"You've already found the garden," said Dustil bitterly, "so how can I help you?"

"Oh?  Did you used to bring your girlfriend there too?"  Patience smiled sadly as she thought of the files that T3 had found in Master Wynn's room.  "You must have learned that from your father."

Dustil's eyes narrowed.  "What do you want?"

"Uh… I'm doing this all wrong.  May I start again?"  Before Dustil could snap at her again, Patience stepped aside and let Carth enter the room.  "I think I should let you two talk."  She handed Carth the datapad from Master Wynn's room, and closed the door, leaving Carth and Dustil alone.

She stood outside the room next to T3, and watched the hallway.  She could sense the turmoil of emotion in the room – loss, betrayal, abandonment, hope, longing.  The door opened, and Carth walked out.  Both men looked dark and defeated, Dustil holding the datapad that held the truth of his lover's fate at the hands of Master Wynn and Carth looked drained from trying to explain what had happened all those years ago.  Patience looked at Carth, questioning, and he led her away.

"He hates being lied to," said Carth sadly, and shook his head.  "I think that hurt him more than anything else.  He wanted to belong to something, and the Sith were all that he had.  He didn't realize that they had killed and lied to him to make it that way.  He had no idea that I had searched for him.  They told him that I had abandoned him."  Carth looked back towards the room, but kept walking.  "He's going to leave the Academy.  I, uh….  I gave him money for his passage."

Patience laughed lightly.  "So we're broke again, I take it?"

"Yeah."

She slid her arm in his.  "I'm sure we'll find some more somewhere.  I'm glad it all worked out."  She smiled up at Carth.  "I'm glad I could help you."

Carth stopped, and pulled her to him for a kiss.

Patience wondered again if there were little hearts floating over her head, or possibly stars, and if the world really was revolving around her right now.  She also suspected that she was glowing with happiness.  But she couldn't stop to check, because she was busy kissing Carth and there was nothing else in the galaxy that mattered to her at the moment.

 

Malak walked across the familiar field, and wondered how much of this torture he could take.  In the distance, he could hear the screams of the dying and the sound of lightsabers and blaster fire.  He wondered idly if there was any chance that anyone would survive.  It seemed unlikely.  There were so few Masters left, and only a very few students.  Most had turned immediately, either from fear of the Sith or contempt of the Jedi.  They were being whisked away to Korriban, to complete their studies under proper tutelage.

The remaining few, stubborn to the end, had chosen to fight rather than join him.  The troopers and the droids would take care of them, eventually.  In the meantime, Malak was amusing himself by trying to see if he could break through the wall Revan had built in his mind.  He had memories of this place, maddeningly vague half-memories.  Everything here brought back a whisper, a flash, but never a face, never a name.

A tree.  He stroked the trunk, and remembered a pair of wide, blue eyes hiding in the leaves.  "What are you doing up there?" he had asked.

"Nothing," she had answered.  A sweet voice, soft and young, slightly scared.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm stuck," she had confessed.  "I can't get down."

He had helped her down, and become her first friend.  But he couldn't remember who she was, or what her face looked like.

Malak walked away from the tree.  He couldn't bring himself to cut it down.  He touched the wall, the barrier between the Enclave and the farms.  He remembered sitting on the wall with her, studying.  Her face in shadow from the trees, her hair, hidden beneath a scrap of cloth torn from his shirt to hide stains that wouldn't come out.  Paint?  No, oil, from the speeder she had been working on.

He wondered idly if the landspeeder was still in the garage.  He remembered sitting there for hours, watching her legs as she worked on the engine and listening to her chatter about parts and speed upgrades.

Malak calmly walked back into the Enclave, stepping over the bodies of the servants who hadn't been wise enough to flee.  He went to the archives, and searched the records.  He pulled up his own first, and realized that there was nothing to be found here.  Revan had been here already, sometime in the past.  Malak sighed.  "Petty."  She had changed all of the teacher notes to read "Malak is a meatbag," and replaced the identification picture of him with that of an apple.  Malak deleted the file.

Knowing that he would regret it, he pulled up Revan's record.  The console demanded a password.  He typed something at random, and the console responded by demanding a name.  Malak growled in fury.  "You bitch."  When he didn't enter anything, the console changed again, "What is the name, Malak?  You don't know, do you?  And now, you never will."  The console went black, as did the entire archive.  "Damn you, Revan."  He wished again that he had killed her in hand to hand combat, rather than shooting down her flagship.  He would have enjoying watching her life's blood drain away.

"Lord Malak, the archives are deleting themselves!"

"Get a slicer down here.  Save what you can."  Malak turned away from the console.  He'd had enough of walking in Revan's footsteps and chasing dreams.

He glanced down the hallway, and saw the Sith archivists plundering the priceless Jedi texts.  For a moment, the sight was replaced with a flood of memories, of holding an armful of precious scrolls and books, of listening to a bright and cheerful voice reciting the names of Jedi Masters and their accomplishments, of discussing lightsaber forms, of the voice laughing at him for making fun of her tiny feet.

But never seeing the face.  Never saying the name.  Malak decided to go back to the Leviathan and get drunk.  "Destroy the Enclave when you are done.  Leave nothing standing."


	19. Shooting a Star

Patience walked back into the library with an armful of scrolls and datapads.  The Librarian, a middle-aged Human woman from Serroco, looked up at her wearily.  Patience grinned sheepishly.  "Yes, I finished them.  I'd put them back for you if you would let me."

"I can't do that," said the Sith Librarian.  "Do you have a new list?"

"Well," Patience grinned.  "Sort of.  I don't have anything else to do!"

"Why don't you ask Master Wynn for permission to explore the tombs?"

Patience started in surprise.  "Oh, can I do that?  That's a wonderful idea!  I think I will do that.  Here," she handed a datapad to the Librarian.  "Just the first page, and I'll bring them back tomorrow."

The Librarian sighed.  "There's no rush."  She rose and went to get more books for Patience to devour.  She returned with a smaller handful of scrolls and datapads, and Patience accepted them with a happy smile.

Patience left the library, and handed the scrolls to Carth to carry.

"You read a lot," grinned Carth.  "You didn't read this much at the Enclave."

Patience frowned.  "They wouldn't let me use the library there.  I only had some history books to read, and a few boring philosophy books on how great the Jedi code is."  She made a face.  "No debates or anything."

"I think you just like to fight," Carth observed.

T3 chirped in agreement.

"Well, so… maybe I do," she pouted.  "But how else can you learn if you don't question?  And how can you question if you don't know the subject?  Besides," she grinned, "Fighting is all I'm good at."

"I disagree," said Carth under his breath, and Patience blushed.  Carth chuckled, and one of the scrolls fell from his hands.

A nearby student picked up the scroll before Patience could, and handed it back to Carth.  He looked curiously at the man holding thousands of credits of irreplaceable scrolls from the restricted section of the library.  "I don't recognize you," said the student warily.

"Oh, I'm the new student's love slave."  Carth nodded towards Patience.

"What?"  The man, a fallen Jedi who had clearly been drinking, stared at Carth, then at Patience.

Carth grinned, and Patience flushed again.

"Will you stop that," she hissed.

"You brought...  a love slave?  To the Sith Academy?"

"Well, where was I supposed to leave him?" asked Patience defensively.  She took the scroll and put it back on the pile that Carth was carrying.

"Oh, you can trust me," said Carth sweetly to her, "I wouldn't run off or anything."

Patience hit him in the side, and Carth pretended to be wounded, while trying not to drop the scrolls that he was holding.

"Oh, but they let you?  I mean, didn't anyone say anything?"

Patience shook her head.  "No, no one really cared.  Why?  Are you going to go get one too?"

"Well, I...  I didn't think of it, but..."

"Oh, you totally should!" Patience exclaimed.  "I mean, if she's at least halfway willing, why not?"

"You shouldn't do it if she's unwilling," added Carth.  "Someone else might run off with her.  Or him.  Whichever it is."

"Good point," said the fallen Jedi, and he staggered away, contemplating his future plans.

Patience turned and stared at Carth.  "What is wrong with you!  Are you out of your mind?"

Carth laughed slightly.  "It was funny.  Right, T3?"

T3 beeped in agreement.

"Why didn't you try to make him leave the Academy like you usually do?" Carth asked.

"What?  Him?  He's evil, and filled with hate.  Once he stops drinking, he'll be ready to become a real Sith."

"So what about his love slave?"

Patience shrugged.  "Well, he'll have to stop drinking before he can leave.  I don't think he loves her enough.  But, you never know."

Carth shook his head.  "Okay, let's get back to disrupting the Academy so much that no one has time to notice that you're a Jedi in disguise."

Patience laughed, and they returned to the room so that she could read more of the ancient texts stored on Korriban.  She had found a new stash of ancient Jedi manuals in the repository, and was avidly reading them all.  She sat on the bed and read for hours, pausing only to eat the meal that Carth brought to her.

She set aside the last scroll and looked up.  Carth had passed out on the bed, with his head in her lap.  Patience looked down at him and smiled.  This world was old, she could feel its age with every breath that she took.  She could also feel a certain malevolence deep within the core of the Academy.  Not the planet itself, but the shades of generations of Sith that had come here to hide from the watchful eyes of the Jedi.  It seemed reluctant to call to her, but she could feel it.  Patience closed her eyes, and tried to sense it, to listen to the power deep within Korriban.  The echoes ran through her, whispering, shimmering, turning her senses inward.  She breathed slowly, trying to understand, and instead caught a memory.

"Look, violets," she pointed to the garden, an unexpected discovery.  "Who would have planted flowers here?" she laughed, and knelt down to examine them more closely.  Behind her, the soft whisper of a heavy Jedi cloak.  She turned to look at her companion.  His face was handsome, his eyes dark grey like steel, his youth belied by his baldness, and his scalp decorated with blue tattoos.  He was magnificently built, and not even his Jedi cloak could hide his physique.  Her eyes ran hungrily over his body, and she saw an answering smile on his face.

"You'll crush the flowers," he said, as she lay back among the wildflowers, pulling him down to her.

"They'll grow back," she answered, selfish with lust and desire.

Patience opened her eyes and stared, unseeing, at the wall beyond.  How many lovers had the beautiful wildflowers of Korriban seduced?  And when had she been here before?  Why didn't anyone recognize her?  Patience looked down at Carth again.  He still slept, dreamless and comforted by her presence.  Patience frowned, and gently moved him so that she could stand up without waking him.  She wrapped a cloak around herself and walked out to the rear of the Academy, where the secret garden was.  She slipped under the fence and down the little hill to the garden.

She looked around, seeking something in the moonlight, but she wasn't sure what.  She walked farther into the garden, trying not to crush the pretty flowers.

"You're back," said a soft, ghostly voice.

Patience turned, and saw the Force spirit of a male Human hovering just over a barely visible gravestone set in the ground, surrounded by the flowers and overgrown with leaves and grass.

"We've met?"

"We spoke when you first came to Korriban.  Seeking the Sith that had created an Empire, and the power behind them."

Patience blinked in surprise.  "I was what?"

"You're different now.  I'm not sure if you're seeking the same things."  The spirit smiled beneath his dark hood.  "When you were here before, you knew all about it.  What happened to you?"

"It's a really long, boring story, but the short version is, I got hit in the head and I don't remember a lot of things."

"That's odd," said the spirit.

"Is it?" said Patience.  "Why?"

The spirit shrugged.  "What are you seeking now?"

"I'm trying to make things right," Patience replied.  "Why are you using this place to draw people to the Dark Side?"

"My master gave me a command.  I obey it."

"That was thousands of years ago!  Your master is dead and gone."

The spirit shook his head.  "He is no more dead than I am.  He commands me, and I obey," the spirit repeated.

Patience sighed in frustration.  "That's not right!  You should have gone to your rest long ago.  And it isn't fair to the flowers."

The spirit laughed, but didn't say anything.

"Where is your master?"

"He lies in his tomb, as much at rest as I am."

"Fine, I'll go to the tombs tomorrow and see if I can convince him to let you go."

"And the flowers, of course," said the spirit, gently mocking.

Patience looked at the Sith spirit.  "Yes, and the flowers.  In the meantime, could you please stop luring people here?  For a day or two, at least."

"If you command me, jen'ari, then I shall obey."

"Okay, I didn't understand the word in the middle.  But fine, I command you to stop luring people to this garden and influencing them until I return from the Valley of the Dark Lords."

The spirit knelt in silent submission, and faded away.

Patience shook her head and returned to the Academy.  Distracted by her emotions, she didn't notice the silent form of Master Wynn, concealed in the shadows by his long, black Sith cloak.

When she was out of sight, Master Wynn emerged from the shadows, frowning and confused.  "The spirit spoke the language of the Sith Ancients," he said softly to himself.  "And she understood every word as if it were her native tongue.  Who is she?"  Master Wynn walked down to the garden, and searched until he found the gravestone there.  He read the writing on the stone, and looked at the path where Patience had walked to return to the Academy.  "Who is she?" he whispered again.

 

Carth slowly opened his eyes.  "This doesn't make me want to get out of bed, you know."

Patience smiled down at him.  She was holding him in her arms, and kissing him gently every few seconds, while whispering to him that he needed to wake up.

Carth stretched, and ran his hands over her breasts, pretending it was accidental.

"Get up," she insisted.

"I am up," he grinned back, "unless you mean something different."

Patience blushed brightly, and Carth laughed.

"Get out of bed."

Carth sat up, and kissed her before he got out of bed to do the early morning things he was supposed to be doing.  "Do you have something planned for today?"

"I'm going to go explore the tombs."  Patience smiled brightly.  "And you're coming with me."

Carth smiled.  "Need someone to carry your halo?"

She stared at him, then giggled before she could stop herself.  Carth snickered as well, then they both broke into laughter, and he kissed her again before they finally left the room.

Patience stopped by the library and returned the books that she had borrowed, and grinned at the Librarian's relief when she didn't ask for any more.  "Of course, if I find anything in the tombs, I'll bring them back here," she said cheerfully, and the Librarian groaned.

They walked down the hallway, Carth joking about having nothing to carry, and Patience suddenly looked up as a tall Human man, not as broad and imposing as Canderous, was dragged down the far hallway, shouting and swearing at the guards holding him and the Sith Interrogator following them.  Carth grinned, not at all surprised as she suddenly changed direction and walked into the Interrogation room.

The guards threw the prisoner into a cage, and the Interrogator forced a dispenser bracelet onto the man's arm, which would inject the prisoner with the truth-telling serum in appropriate doses as controlled by the nearby console.

Patience stood in front of the console, blocking the Interrogator's view.  She waited to speak until the guards had left the room.  The Interrogator had a black eye and a split lip, and didn't seem inclined to spare the prisoner any pain.

"What?  Do you want to try getting this Mandalorian dog to talk?"  The Interrogator wiped away the blood on his face.

"Sure," said Patience calmly.  She turned to look at the prisoner in the cage.

"Sith whore," snarled the man, his face showing signs of traditional Sith persuasion.

"How did you get caught?" Patience asked, switching to Mandalorian.

The prisoner stood still, swaying slightly from the pain.  "You… you speak my language."

"Answer my question," said Patience softly.

The man shook his head, trying to throw off the pain.  "We were hiding a stash of weapons.  I got hit in the leg," the Mandalorian warrior gestured to the blaster burn on his thigh, "so I stayed behind, covered everyone else."

The Interrogator looked curiously at Carth, then at Patience.  Carth shrugged, indicating that he didn't understand either.

"Mandokarla," said Patience, so softly that Carth could barely hear her, but the Mandalorian in the cage flushed at the compliment.  "I'm going to use this console to knock you out.  You may say something while you're unconscious.  You're sure they are gone by now?"

The Mandalorian nodded, and Patience turned to the computer console.  She typed swiftly, changing the truth serum dosage slightly.  The dispenser hissed, and the prisoner fell to the floor.  Patience knelt, and listened as he whispered a set of coordinates, still under the influence of the last commands from the Interrogator.

"What did he say?" asked the Interrogator eagerly.  "I only heard the first part."

Patience stood up, and brushed off her trousers without answering.

"Listen, wench," the Interrogator snarled, "I can't sleep with Wynn to gain prestige.  So you tell me what he said, or I'll – "

"Or you'll what?" Patience demanded scornfully.

The Interrogator answered by throwing a bolt of dark energy at her, and Carth tackled him before he could follow up his attack.  Patience was knocked from her feet by the unexpected attack, and fell over T3.  The Interrogator turned his attention to Carth before she could stand, and began choking the life out of him with the Force.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Patience knew that students weren't supposed to use their lightsabers within the confines of the Academy, but her blades were already out, glowing a violent red.  She charged the Interrogator, ruining his concentration, and Carth fell to the floor, gasping.  The Interrogator drew his own lightsaber, and the blades clashed, shimmering like blood in the harsh light of the Interrogation room.

The door opened, and Master Wynn entered the room, curious to know who was violating the rules of lightsaber dueling.  He took in the situation quickly, and helped Carth to his feet as Patience finished dealing with the Interrogator.

She stepped away from the body, and deactivated her lightsabers with a small noise of irritation at the Interrogator's remains.

Master Wynn smiled with amusement.  "Well, he was trying to kill you.  He did rather deserve it."

Patience turned in surprise.  "Oh, Master Wynn!  I had no idea you were there."  She looked at Carth, who nodded to indicate that he was unharmed.

"A pity, really," said Master Wynn, looking at the cage.  "I was hoping to find that weapons cache."

"Oh, he told me where it was," said Patience, and recited the coordinates.

Master Wynn looked at her in surprise, then at the dead Interrogator.  "Ah, I see.  The prisoner," smiled Master Wynn, "told you, and you didn't feel like sharing.  No surprise, really."  Master Wynn called to some guards in the hall, and commanded them to remove the bodies, indicating the dead Interrogator and the comatose Mandalorian.

Patience didn't correct him, and let the Mandalorian be carried away.

"Weren't you going to the tombs today?" asked Master Wynn.

"I got distracted," said Patience, blushing.  "It's not too late to go, is it?"

"Not at all," Master Wynn assured her.  "However, I was wondering if you would be interested in a short training exercise first."

"Oh?"  She couldn't restrain her curiosity.

Master Wynn smiled again.  "Follow me.  Your slave is exceptionally well-trained," he observed as Carth silently followed her.

"Thank you," said Patience sweetly.

"It's a pity he isn't a Force user himself, don't you think?"

"He's strong enough with the Force to have Force-sensitive babies, which is really all that's important."

"True, true," mused Master Wynn.  "You've already tested his capacity to pass on his Force sensitivity?"

Patience nodded cheerfully, and tried not to look at Carth so that she wouldn't start giggling.

"Very wise of you.  I'm pleased to see that you refuse to let yourself be blinded by jealousy in such a matter."

"Jealousy has its place," Patience smiled.  "But you can't let it control you, you'll go crazy.  Although, it would be useful for generating power with the Dark Side, up to a point."

Master Wynn and Carth both looked at her; Master Wynn, curious and interested, while Carth was concerned and confused.

"So, what training did you have in mind, Master Wynn?" she asked brightly.

"A little lightsaber practice."  They entered the sparring room, and Patience could see the exit to the Valley of the Dark Lords just beyond.  Some students were gathered, and Master Wynn beckoned to one.  "I was wondering if you could demonstrate some lightsaber forms for our students.  Not everyone here has had your training with lightsaber combat."

"Oh, I'd be happy to," said Patience brightly.  Without thinking, she fell easily into the role of instructor, showing the student the first four forms, the basis for all lightsaber combat.  She corrected his stance, his grip, and showed him the proper stances for each form.

Carth didn't watch her, he watched Master Wynn.  The Sith Master was watching her every move carefully, his brow wrinkled as if he was trying to remember something.

"You are very good at this," said Master Wynn.  "Would you consider taking over some teaching duties for the students who need more attention?"

"Gladly," smiled Patience.  She sent the student off to practice what she had taught him.

"Perhaps you would consider a demonstration?" asked Master Wynn.

Patience looked at him in surprise.  "What do you mean?"

Master Wynn beckoned to two of the students in the room, both former Jedi.  "Attack her."

With grins of evil pleasure, they charged, expecting that they would catch her off-guard.

Patience dodged so swiftly, one of her attackers fell off balance from his wild attack, and then she had her lightsabers out.  She struck like lightning, driving them back across the practice area.

Master Wynn smiled, and sent three more students in to attack her.

There were enough of them to surround her now, and it should have been their advantage.  It wasn't.  She had complete control of the combat, driving them back and keeping them at bay with ease.  She wasn't sure what Master Wynn was trying to do, so she toyed with the students, none of whom came even close to her level of skill.

Master Wynn's smile became dark and fascinated.  He sent in the rest of the students in the practice area.

"Are we striking to kill, Master?" asked one of the students, his voice hungry for blood.

Patience frowned, waiting for the Master's answer.

"You are Sith," said Master Wynn patiently.  "Strike as you will."

Carth started in shock, but Patience just smiled.  At this point their numbers were working against them, and even with lightsabers, thirty unskilled combatants were no match for a blademaster of her caliber.

Master Wynn smiled to himself as he watched her.

She shifted between forms effortlessly, blocking wild blows, throwing crippling kicks that dropped her opponents to the floor and causing the other students to trip over the prone forms.  She seemed to know where the blades of her attackers would be before they got there, she saw gaps in their defense instantly and never failed to take advantage of them.

Carth watched, the hair on the back of his neck standing up, as she drove her circling opponents back again and again.  Each time the circle had fewer people in it, until finally the last four students standing drew back, too unnerved to charge her again.

"I think that's enough," laughed Master Wynn.  "You may go to the tombs now."  Master Wynn walked out of the practice area, chuckling to himself at the discomfiture of his students.

Patience waited for the last students to deactivate their lightsabers and leave before she put her lightsabers away.  She beckoned to Carth and T3, and turned away, her cloak swirling graceful and dark around her as she walked out to the Valley of the Dark Lords.


	20. A Promise Held Too Tightly

Patience entered the first of the three open tombs. She made her way easily through the various puzzles that were meant to protect the tomb, and Carth and T3 followed her into the large central chamber.  
"Come out," said Patience. "I want to talk to you."  
Before Carth could ask what she was doing, the spirit appeared, in a wave of dark energy that drove him to his knees. T3 squealed in terror, and withdrew to the far end of the room.  
The spirit spoke, in a voice dark and hateful, using a strange and unfamiliar language that hurt his ears. To his shock, Patience replied to the spirit in the same language. But when she spoke it, the language was sibilant, and seemed to wrap itself around his brain. They spoke for a while, Patience soft and pleading, commanding; the spirit, sad and dark, despairing.  
Patience seemed to sparkle as she spoke, trying to convince the spirit of something. Carth watched in disbelief as the darkness seemed to fall away from the spirit as she spoke. A soft, warm light filled the room, and the Force spirit ceased to haunt the tomb, fading away like the mist over water on a brightly dawning day. Patience smiled in joy, and Carth staggered to his feet as the overwhelming darkness disappeared.  
"Isn't it wonderful!" She bounced over to Carth, and threw her arms around him. "He's free, he's finally free!"  
"Who – what was that?"  
"Huh? Oh, you don't speak – whatever it was I was just speaking," she laughed. "I don't know the name. Or where I learned it. You're going to stare suspiciously at me, aren't you?" Patience smiled at him.  
"Well, no, not really. Okay, yes I am. What just happened? It looked like – did you just set that spirit free and turn it back to the Light?"  
Patience nodded happily.  
"This is the tomb of a Sith Lord."  
"Ajunta Pall, the leader of the Exiles that took over Korriban after the Hundred-Year Darkness."  
"So who was that that you just set free?" asked Carth, not daring to believe.  
Patience looked at him in surprise. "Ajunta Pall, of course."  
Carth stared at her.  
"And now he's free! Even better, he's reunited with the one he loved," Patience sighed happily. "So romantic." She picked up the swords from the sarcophagus. "Okay, let's go."  
Carth followed her out of the tomb, not sure if he should speak to her or worship her.  
"Let's go to the next tomb," she said eagerly. "The one with the killer droids!"  
Carth rolled his eyes. "Why do you think that's a good idea?"  
"Parts!"  
T3 whistled in agreement.  
"You know, I was trying to think of why I like you. You're always grumpy, you were already married, you have terrible taste in clothes."  
Carth looked at her in surprise. "Did you come up with a good reason? Besides my dashing good looks?" he grinned.  
"I did," Patience smiled at him. "It's because you actually think for yourself. Sometimes you even disapprove of what I do."  
"Sometimes you do very crazy, stupid things."  
Patience laughed. "You think about what I'm doing, and why. If you don't understand it, you question me until you do. You don't just take my word for it. And you stop me from doing too many crazy, stupid things."  
"When I can."  
"Yes," she smiled, "when you can. But you try! When you said that you would stop me if I started to fall, you meant it. You really would."  
"I would try, anyway," he said seriously. "I'm not sure how much good I would be."  
"But you would try anyway," she smiled, glowing with happiness. "You would try." She threw her arms around him, and kissed him for the sheer joy of it. "I can't even explain how much strength that gives me, to know that you love me enough to try." She pulled away and smiled mischievously at him. "Also, you have a great ass." With a giddy laugh, Patience ran down the hallway leading out of the tomb, leaving Carth to follow her.  
Suddenly she stopped in her happy dance, and fast as thought, whipped out her lightsaber.  
"You survived," snarled the Sith student. "This was my idea! I was the one who was supposed to get those swords!"  
"Oh, that stupid prestige thing," said Patience with a slight sneer. "You want the sword of Ajunta Pall? But you were too cowardly to come get it yourself."  
"I couldn't get past the traps," the man snapped. "Not all of us thought to bring a droid to do all the work for us."  
T3 whistled in indignation.  
Patience frowned at the man. "So you were just too stupid to get it yourself. And yet now you think you're going to be good enough to get the sword from me?"  
The man held out a grenade. "I planned ahead. Either you hand over the sword or I drop the door on top of you and pry it off your corpse." He smiled cruelly. "You might survive, but your toy won't."  
Patience glared at him, and dropped one of the swords on the ground and kicked it towards him. "Fine, take it. I can get more prestige anyway." She readied her lightsaber. "And if you even think about double-crossing me with that grenade, I will make sure you don't survive either."  
"No, no," the student smiled, carefully picking up the ancient blade. "I'll play fair – this time. I want you to see Master Wynn's face when I hand over a Sith artifact that he's been after for years." The sword firmly in his hands, he turned and ran swiftly out of the tomb.  
Patience put her lightsaber away.  
Carth shook his head. "Poor kid. That wasn't very nice."  
"I lost all sympathy for him when he threatened you," she frowned.  
Carth shrugged. "Still, I think I'll go somewhere else when he hands over that sword to Master Wynn."  
Patience looked at him with concern. "I didn't go too far, did I?"  
"No," he smiled, "he really should have gotten the sword himself. It's nice to know you do have limits to your shiny goodness."  
Patience stuck her tongue out at him. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone figures out that if they just ask nicely, I'll give them the sword."  
Carth laughed, and they headed to the next tomb.  
"This is the Tomb of Marka Ragnos," said Patience, reading the plaque on the wall. "Only no one can get past the insane killer droids." She looked around, and spotted a body on the ground. "I wonder what is making the droids insane."  
T3 beeped a question.  
"Oh, I don't know, but I'll try." She pulled a datapad from the corpse, and a sophisticated stealth unit. "That's odd." She started reading the datapad, and Carth grinned at her.  
"So, are you going to tell me anything? Or should I just keep watching your butt?"  
Patience pretended to frown at him. "I'm reading. It looks like the droid is suffering some kind of feedback, and you can only approach it if you're quiet." She looked at the stealth unit. "This guy tried it, but when he got to the droid, he couldn't figure out how to fix it and tried to leave, and it killed him."  
Carth frowned. "This never sounded like a good idea, and now it sounds even worse."  
Patience looked at him hopefully.  
"Fine, fine, we'll go." He activated his stealth unit, and helped her set up the one she had found. "T3 has his own stealth mode, right?"  
T3 beeped happily, then guiltily flashed a warning light as Patience shushed him.  
She beckoned to them to follow, and they silently and carefully made their way through the tomb, disabling mines and carefully stepping over the bodies of droids and organics.  
They found the droid in a large chamber decorated with a series of statues of ancient Sith lords.  
"wHo iS tHeRe?"  
Patience laid a hand on the droid, and waited for it to respond.  
"pLeAsE sPeAk QuIeTlY. I hAvE a FeEdBaCk lOoP iN mY aUdItOrY mOdUlE tHaT cAuSeS mE tO rEaCt iNaPpRoPrIaTeLy To LoUd NoIsEs."  
Patience considered, then stroked out a series of long and short motions on the droid's shell, spelling out her response.  
The droid's head swiveled towards her, and the red eyes stared hopefully at her. "yOu… CaN hElP?"  
She responded in the same fashion as before, and asked the droid for permission to try to repair it.  
"pLeAsE. hElP."  
She worked slowly, carefully avoiding any unnecessary noise as she worked on the droid's interior. The memory module was horribly damaged, and it took her a long time to complete the work, as she had to work on each matrix separately to prevent another catastrophe. Finally she restarted the droid's core, and stepped back to see what would happen.  
"It… it worked! I feel much better," said the droid. "My protocols seem to have been rebuilt from scratch," the droid observed.  
"It worked! I'm so glad!" Patience smiled, and T3 beeped happily.  
"Yes," the droid agreed. "She is very special." The droid considered. "I must return to my core function, and continue guarding this tomb from the Sith."  
"From the Sith?" said Patience in surprise. "I thought you were placed here by the Sith."  
"That is not correct," said the droid. "I am a defense unit, placed here by the order of the Jedi Council after the death of Exar Kun. My programming was corrupted by a Sith who was trying to reach the tomb beyond."  
"Is Marka Ragnos still there?" said Patience in awe. "Can we talk to him?"  
The droid scanned her. "It would be possible, but inadvisable. Marka Ragnos is a master of Sith magic, and has been known to possess sentients with only a spark of the Force."  
"Yeah, I checked my horoscope, and it says I should avoid possession today," grinned Carth. "Why don't you just take some of these books?" He pointed to a few old scrolls lying in a cracked sarcophagus.  
"Oh!" Patience looked at the droid. "Is it okay if I take those?"  
The droid nodded. "They will not harm you."  
Patience picked up the scrolls, and a small triangular object of red and black crystal. "Oh, that's bad."  
"What is it?" asked Carth.  
"That is a Sith holocron," said the droid. "It is dangerous."  
"I think I'll leave this here," said Patience reluctantly, and set it back in the sarcophagus. She looked longingly at the crystal again, then piled some rubble on top of it so she couldn't see it any more.  
"What's a holocron?"  
"It's a Force object, that Jedi and Sith use to record their memories. They interact with the user. A Jedi holocron meant to teach, for example, will always change its method of instruction to match the user. Sith holocrons usually just have lots of information."  
"I can see why that would appeal to you," smiled Carth, "but wouldn't it also try and draw you to the Dark Side?"  
"Yeah," said Patience sadly. "They're really dangerous. But I always want to know what's on them! For all I know, it could just be a holocron of evil cookie recipes."  
Carth pulled her into his arms. "Tell you what, I'll buy you an questionably evil dessert when we get back in exchange for leaving the evil, mind-altering artifact in the tomb where it belongs."  
"Deal," Patience smiled. "Come on, T3, let's get out of here. You'll be okay now," she assured the droid. "Your sensory matrix isn't vulnerable anymore, and your defensive protocols should keep any nosy Sith from getting too close."  
"Thank you very much," said the droid, and settled back into a defensive posture to continue watching and waiting.  
They left the tomb, and Carth sighed as they stepped into the fresh air.  
"What's wrong?"  
"How many more tombs are there?"  
"Just one," Patience smiled sweetly. "But we don't have to go right now."  
Carth grinned. "All this dust is getting to me. Let's go back for a little while. I'll buy you that dessert I promised."  
Patience bounced up to him for a quick kiss, then paused and pretended to dust off his face. Carth laughed, and kissed her. "Yes, let's go back," she agreed.  
He kissed her again. "You're not fooling anyone, you know," he grinned. "You just want to read the books you found before you turn them over to Master Wynn."  
Patience laughed joyously. "Well, not if it turns out to be a collection of Sith recipes."


	21. Light Enough for Shadows

Patience set aside the last scroll, an epistle from the hand of Marka Ragnos himself. She lay down on the bed, next to Carth, and looked up at the ceiling. Before she could finish forming a thought, she realized that Carth wasn't asleep. His lips claimed hers, he moved so that his body was over her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him eagerly and happily.  
"I thought you were asleep!"  
"I thought you were never coming to bed," he grinned, and kissed her again, gently at first, then with more passion and fire. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," he murmured softly. "I want you," he kissed her wildly, "I want to make love to you. I was thinking that I didn't want to have my first time with you be here, in a place like this, but," he kissed her again before she could speak, "I just don't care!" He pressed himself against her, lips to lips, body to body, caressing her with his hands, grinding himself against her. "By the powers, you're so wonderful and beautiful and loving, I can't think of anything else but you." She kissed him wildly, shocked and enchanted by his sudden declaration, and he kissed her again before he went on. "I know we'll probably get interrupted, we always do, but I don't care. I have to try!" He laughed hoarsely, his voice thick with passion and need, slid his hand beneath her shirt so he could touch her skin.  
Patience tightened her arms around him, reveling in the feel of his body on hers. She didn't trust herself to speak, and instead wrapped her legs around his hips, letting him settle into her, letting his hardness crush her into the soft bed, letting his kisses set her on fire. She could feel her body warming to him, spreading open beneath the weight and heat of his body. She moaned softly, kissing his face, his hair, his neck, anywhere that she could touch. She reached down, fumbling slightly as she undid the clasp of her pants, and pulled them off, shoved them out of the way. Following her lead, Carth stripped off his shirt, then his pants, and let go of Patience long enough for her to pull off her shirt. He buried his face in her breasts, kissed them both, running his tongue over her softness and her licking at her nipples, making her cry out hungrily. Patience pulled his head back up to hers, her legs still wrapped around him, and gasped in ecstasy at the first touch of his hardness against the entrance to her body.  
"Oh, yes," she gasped, and moved her legs, working him inside her. "Oh, Carth, yes," she cried out, and arched into his movement.  
Carth moaned in pleasure at her tightness and her wetness, entered her carefully, moving gently inside her. She shrieked with pleasure, uncaring that others could hear her passion, and held him tightly to her. Carth thrust swiftly into her, groaning in animal satisfaction, and she pulled him even closer, her hips moving in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. Loud panting, wild cries, short screams, heralded their mutual release.  
"Patience," Carth whispered in her ear, "my love, my own sweet love," he murmured as he came, and she made a soft noise, almost as if she were crying, and for a moment, Carth felt everything. The world around them, vibrant with life, slightly darker than it ought to be, but still shimmering with light here and there - the stars, hanging in the sky above, pinpoints of light in the darkness; the sea, far, far from where they lay panting, but still there, giving the world water and atmosphere and climate; the earth, the trees, the flowers, life-giving and loving and grateful to be freed from their dark taint - and running through it all, a pure, wonderful sense of love, barely tinged with desire. Love for him.  
Carth woke up, to a soft hand on his forehead.  
"Are you all right?" Patience asked nervously. "I think - I didn't mean to do that, whatever I did. I'm sorry!"  
She was still completely naked, and Carth savored the sight for a few moments before answering. "Don't be sorry, that was wonderful. Amazing." He sat up slowly, his head still spinning. "That was... the Force. I felt the Force, didn't I?"  
Patience nodded. "You passed out."  
"Yeah, that was... amazing. A little overwhelming." He stared at her. "Do you feel that all the time?"  
"I try not to think about it," she smiled. "I have to focus to see everything like that, I didn't realize," she blushed, "that if I lost control, I would see it anyway. And share, apparently." She leaned over and kissed him.  
"It was like... we were one," he said uncertainly, and she nodded. "You felt the same thing?"  
She nodded again.  
"Have you... always felt that?" he asked curiously, and she blushed, and was somehow even more beautiful than she had been before. Carth smiled. "No wonder you put up with me," he smiled, and drew her into his arms for a kiss. He kissed her sweetly, and for a very long time, but finally pulled away. "I need some water," he smiled. "I'll be right back."  
Carth watched Patience lay down in the bed and pull a sheet over herself as he pulled on his pants. She smiled at him, and he slipped out of the room, trying to be quiet. The bath was at the end of the hall, as was the fountain. He washed his hands and took a quick drink of water, then filled a glass for Patience.  
"Does she always do that?" asked the Twi'lek Sith Mistress. She was slightly flushed, and wearing only a long linen wrap.  
"What?" asked Carth in surprise, then started to blush. "Wait – you felt it too?"  
"I no longer wonder why she left the Jedi," smiled Mistress Ban. "I wouldn't give that up either. Not for anything." She looked him over curiously.  
"Oh, Maker," Carth muttered under his breath, too embarrassed to move. "How far did she send it?" Mistress Ban's room was at the far end of the hall from where Patience and Carth slept. "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"  
"Why would you want to?" she smiled. "Although if her emotional broadcast reached Master Wynn, you might want to consider staying out of his way. He might … take an interest in you." Mistress Ban looked him over as if she were considering it herself, but in a different fashion.  
"I gotta go," said Carth hurriedly, and ran back to Patience. "Patience! Help."  
"What?" She sat in confusion.  
Carth, still bright red with embarrassment, put down the glass of water and slid under the covers with her. "They all think it's my fault!"  
"What? What are you talking about?"  
"They felt it! Mistress Ban felt it!"  
"Oh." Patience tried not to laugh. "Oh. Well, in a way, it is your fault," she giggled. "Oh, Carth, you're so much fun to be with!" She pulled him to her for a kiss, laughing sweetly. "Don't worry," she said softly, kissing him again, "I won't let the Sith take you away from me."

"So, whose tomb is this?" Carth asked. They had left the Academy early, but not early enough to dodge quite a few stares from wondering students, and Carth had spent the entire time trying to hide behind Patience.  
T3 beeped curiously, and Patience smiled gently.  
"This is the tomb of Tulak Hord, a Weapon Master of the ancient Sith. He was one of the first great lightsaber duelists, and he was remarkably long-lived, even for a Force user. He lived for well over a thousand years, and spent most of them beating people in lightsaber duels."  
"How long do Force users live?" he asked curiously as they stepped over more skeletons of students who hadn't thought to bring a droid to deactivate the security systems.  
"Usually a few hundred years beyond their normal lifespan. Very powerful Force users tend to live longer, or rather, it takes them longer to start dying. I think the Force just gets so used to having them around, it forgets to let go," she grinned. "Here, T3, you open this door a bit, and I'll go in and disable the security so you two can come in."  
T3 clicked assent, and got the gears to turn far enough that Patience could squeeze past the heavy door.  
She slid inside, and gasped in shock as a crudely built valve spewed gas right in her face. She tried to fight off the effects, but the gas was a vicious neural suppressor that prevented her from concentrating enough to use the Force. Patience crumpled to her feet, and the door slammed shut behind her.  
She stirred, trying to shake off the effects of the gas.  
"Awake already, are you?" said a horribly old, vicious voice. "Good, good. You're strong."  
Patience opened her eyes, and saw an old man, his eyes white and sightless from years of using Force Sight in preference to his eyes. He was tall, his cruelty and insanity clearly stamped on his face.  
"Well, well, welcome to the tomb of the Sith Lord Tulak Hord. I've taken up residence here, for the time being," he cackled. "Granted, it's a bit drafty, and full of critters, but I like it here." He looked around the sparsely furnished room, at the walls decorated with statues of ancient Sith. "I get to keep such distinguished company." He looked at her, smiling in a way that made her skin crawl. "Their conversations are… fascinating."  
Patience tried to move, and discovered that all she could do was turn her head slightly, enough to see that another student was in the room, stiff and crippled by the nerve gas just as she was. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice slurred and shaky from the gas.  
Before he answered, she felt a soft whisper at the back of her mind. Cold fingers, seeking, wondering. Mocking her forms, her skill. Pointing out flaws in the stances that every Jedi learned, weak points in the defensive forms.  
"Ah, of course, where are my manners. Introductions. I suppose you know this other – student," he said scornfully, pointing. "I believe he screamed that his name was Mekel. Say hello, Mekel," commanded the old man, and raised his hand threateningly.  
The other student could only gasp in pain.  
"I said to say your name, weakling," snarled the old man, and threw a wave of dark Force energy at the young man, making him scream in agony. "A few hours of torture, and you're bawling like a Twi'lek woman on the third round. You call yourself a Sith."  
"Stop it!" Patience yelled in anger. "What are you doing?"  
The presence in her mind questioned her anger. Sought something in her consciousness. Patience had the odd sensation that the ghostly presence in her mind was having a discussion with something hidden in her mind.  
"You think that I should spare this pathetic weakling?" asked the old man. "Really, what has Uthar been doing while I've been gone? Not a single student worthy of the name," the old man grumbled.  
"You're Jorak Uln," said Patience in surprise. "The former head of the Sith Academy."  
"Yes!" said the old man in delight. "You recognized me?"  
"No," said Patience, "I've heard of you. You were the master before Master Wynn."  
"Master," the old man sniffed in disgust. "And this is all he has to offer? Sometimes I wonder why I bother, I really do."  
"What are you doing?" She looked over at the other student, who was barely conscious.  
"I am trying to teach," said Master Uln sternly. "I am trying to teach you to be a true Sith."  
Something about his words stirred something in her mind, or perhaps it was the presence in her mind.  
"A true Sith."  
"Yes, a little test. Most of the drek that Uthar has been sending here," Master Uln shook his fist at the other student, "are so unbelievably pathetic that I'm beginning to suspect he's just trying to drive me insane."  
"Drive you insane," she repeated in disbelief. "So where are you now?"  
"Impertinence," said the old man admiringly. "Mekel here has already been tested." The young man writhed in agony, and Master Uln smiled, an incredibly foul and evil smile. "Yes, yes, you're quite welcome, my boy. He has been found wanting, but I am bored. He has the nature of a Sith, but he lacks the backbone and will to be a true Sith. So I offer you a little adjustment to your test."  
"What test? What are you talking about?" Patience demanded.  
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you will answer them as a true Sith would, or you will suffer. But every time you answer as a true Sith would, Mekel here will suffer. More." Master Uln laughed, in sick and evil joy. "So, are you up for it?"  
"If you can hold out," Mekel gasped, "we can fight him, together!"  
"Ah, brave boy," grinned Master Uln. "And very Sith-like, I must add. Of course, I assume you're planning to double-cross her as soon as you defeat me. Assuming you defeat me, and that I don't kill the both of you and rape your corpses until you're both so decomposed I can't get in your holes."  
"You're a madman!" gasped Patience in horror.  
"Oh, come now," smiled the old man, "what's a little mental instability between Master and student?" He laughed again, sending horrified thrills up and down her spine. "The important thing here is that we're all dedicated to improving the Sith as a whole. It's a big and serious job, that I take very seriously." His blind eyes turned towards Mekel again. "Unless I get distracted, of course."  
"You disgusting, filthy old man! I'm not going to play your stupid game!" Patience yelled. She tried again to fight off the effects of the gas, and the presence in her mind continued going on about lightsaber dueling.  
"I don't remember giving you a choice," Master Uln's voice became dark and vicious. "You can refuse to answer my questions if you choose to, but I shall just consider that to be a wrong answer. And you will suffer accordingly. It's up to you how much suffering you can take before you crack," he laughed. "It's a pity you're not another boy, I could have had so much fun."  
"You sick, twisted – "   
"First question!" he interrupted. "Let's see… your immediate superior amongst the Sith is an effective commander and a fine leader. He trusts you, and you like him. You see an opportunity to kill him. What do you do?"  
"How exactly is living in a filthy tomb, eating vermin, and raping young men supposed to be helping the Sith as a whole?"  
"Is that your answer, girl?" said Master Uln, his evil voice tight with anger.  
"My name is Patience, you filthy failed insane excuse for a Sith!"  
"Then it is time for your punishment," snarled Master Uln, and he threw a blast of incredibly painful Dark energy at her.  
Patience screamed before she could stop herself, and suddenly her mind went away, back into the black recesses where the memories stolen from the Dark Lord Revan were hiding. She saw through Revan's eyes, a vast expanse of snow, and two bruised and broken bodies lying in the snow. Revan was sitting on the back of a large riding animal that stamped impatiently in the cold, its breath steaming and sweat rolling down its flanks. Revan had ridden hard, chasing down the two victims in a twisted hunt, with only a long, wicked multi-tailed whip for a weapon. It would have been simple enough to wrench the whip from Revan's hand and escape, if only the victims had been brave enough to risk a few blows. In the end, the man had fallen, exhausted, and the woman had tried to protect him while Revan had beaten them both to death.  
She knew what he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear that she would kill her superior – after all, as a trusted second, she was obviously capable. And any Sith that trusted another should know that they would be betrayed at the first opportunity. That was the way of the Sith.  
The pain stopped, and she came back to herself, shaking and weak.  
"Your second question. Simple. Perhaps you'll do better this time. You come across a group of Humans who are threatened by dangerous animals. They plead for your help, and offer a substantial reward. What do you do?"  
"Di'kutla shabla chakaar!"  
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist that you restrain yourself to a language that I can actually understand."  
"Lev'ori besom!"  
"Is that Mandalorian?" asked Master Uln. "Doesn't besom mean camp filth?"  
"Mando'ad draar digur."  
"Okay, I recognize that. That's a threat. In Mandalorian. I'm very insulted, and I think you deserve what's going to happen to you now."  
The pain ripped through her again, but she held back a scream this time, and knew that it irritated him. Once again, she felt her mind pulled back into the dark places of Revan's memory. This time, she was looking through Revan's eyes at a man kneeling, his face on the floor, completely submissive at Revan's feet.  
"As long as you live, Master, there is no other for me," said the man desperately. "Please, Master," he begged, "punish me however you wish, but do not discard me."  
Revan's hand reached out, and again she saw the short, heavy, multi-tailed whip, and she realized that Revan's own hands had braided the heavy leather, set the heavy metal rings at the end.  
"Are you afraid?" she heard Revan's voice, distorted by the mask, ask of the man on the floor.  
He answered without moving or raising his head. "Only of your displeasure, Master."  
She could feel Revan smiling in pleasure. "I'm not going to remind you of the rules again. I am going to give you a beating for your transgressions, and I expect to hear you count every blow."  
"Yes, Master," said the man eagerly. Only a certain type of person would understand his sudden joy. No master would beat a slave that they didn't intend to keep. They fed on the suffering and the sensation. A beating meant that Revan planned to stay, would give him another chance to please his Master.  
The whip sang out, ripping into his back with a solid thud, and he choked back a shocked scream. "One, Master." The blow had broken skin, a mark of mercy from this particular style of whip. A blow that didn't rip the skin would land with enough force to crush internal organs. More blows fell, and he obediently counted them out as long as he could, and finally Revan stopped.  
"You are insolent, and disobedient. Perhaps you tire of me? Perhaps I should find another to satisfy my needs?"  
"No, Master! There is no other, Master, there is no one but you!"  
"Do not lie to me!" Revan hissed. "If you wish to leave, you have but to say the word. But if you wish to serve me, then be loyal! I do not share! I will not be cheated on!" Revan hurled the whip aside. "If I have to do this again, I will break you, do you understand?"  
Of course a true Sith would take the payment, and then leave the fools to fight or die on their own. Promises made to people who were too weak to enforce them were just so many wasted words.  
She returned to herself again, weak and shaken, but more disturbed by the glimpses of Revan's evil than by the pain.  
"Well," said Master Uln cheerfully, "are you ready for the next question?"  
She glared at him without answering.  
"Let me see… you discover an aspect of the Force that gives you great power. Do you share it and strengthen the Sith as a whole, or keep it to yourself?"  
The strange presence in her mind urged her to answer this question honestly. It would be funnier, insisted the cold whisper in her mind.  
Patience looked over at Mekel, unable to move and quivering in pain. She couldn't watch him suffer, especially not to please an intruder in her mind. She smiled to herself, and decided to compromise. The strangely sibilant tones of the ancient Sith language rolled easily off her tongue.  
"What?"  
She repeated the words, wondering if he understood.  
Master Uln burst into cruel, amused laughter. "Very good! I like that. You share it, but in a way that only the worthy will understand. Well. That's not an answer that I expected. I suppose I should give you half-credit for that, and only half the punishment." Instead of using the Force to wrack her with pain, he stepped closer and slapped her across the face with a blow that left her head ringing.  
"Well, well. Let's move on, shall we?" Master Uln considered. "One of your underlings has made a terrible mistake that makes you look bad. Shameful. Normally, this underling is very competent and quite skilled. Do you kill him or give him another chance?"  
"I don't know how to make this more clear to you, but I'm not playing your stupid game, Uln. Just deal out the pain."  
"Stubborn," said Master Uln with grudging admiration. "And strong, too. If only… you know, you remind me of someone I used to know. Ah well, if it's pain you want, it's pain you'll get."  
This time she disappeared into her own memories. This memory didn't have the horrible taste of Revan's evil. She was running down a hallway, her breathing panicked, her chest tight. "Father! Father!" she heard herself screaming, and she entered a room, and saw him lying on the floor, his swords fallen, blood pooled beneath him, and she screamed in horror and rage. "No! Father!" She ran forward, and threw herself on his body, unable to believe that he was really gone. She stared at the dear and familiar face, so very like her own, but cold and still now. "Father…."  
She snapped out of the memory to find that tears were running down her face. The sense of loss stung deeper and more cruelly than any Force attack.  
A true Sith would kill an underling who failed, of course. And any Sith that failed their Master would know better than to return while the memory of their failure was still fresh in their minds.  
"This is your last chance, in more ways than one," smiled Master Uln. "You're about to die. Do you pass on your knowledge to your apprentice to make him stronger? Or do you use your last breath to strike at your enemies?"  
"Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me."  
"Err… are you trying to get extra credit? Because that's not an answer to my question," snapped Master Uln.  
"Ja'ak." She threw off the effects of the nerve gas, and her lightsabers were out before Master Uln had a chance to react. "I am free," she repeated.  
"What?" Master Uln looked outraged. "That's cheating! You're not allowed out before you answer the last question." He activated his lightsaber, a dual-bladed weapon that glowed a sickly greenish-red. "You're weak with pain, are you sure you want to do this? Foolish girl."  
"Through passion, I gain strength," she hissed. "Through pain, understanding."  
"What? That's not part of the Sith Code." He didn't have time to talk more, as he found himself facing a duelist of amazing skill. "Jar'Kai? True Jar'Kai? A true master of the Two Sword style? Who are you? Where did you come from?"  
Patience laughed wearily. "Why does everyone ask me that? Why doesn't anyone know who I am?" Instead of being crippled by the pain, it seemed to be fuel for her – she moved faster than she ever had before. She blocked his lightsaber easily, dodged his attempts to throw Force energy at her as if he was standing still.  
"But, but, you didn't answer!" wailed Uln, as he realized that he was going to fall to her flashing blades. "You didn't answer."  
Something in her mind, something oddly twisted and slightly dark, took pity on him. He was going to die, after all. He deserved this small kindness. Her lightsabers flashed once, and the old Sith Master fell to the ground, gasping, his arm completely severed from his body. Patience looked down at him, and saw that he was still listening to her, waiting for his answer. "A True Sith never dies."  
Patience deactivated her lightsabers, and walked over to Mekel. The nerve gas was slowly wearing off, and he collapsed into her ams. She gently laid him on the bare floor, stroked his head to ease his pain.  
The door slowly rolled back, and someone jammed a large rock as a wedge to keep it open, before running into the room. "Patience! Are you all right? What happened?"  
Carth stopped, and stared at the body on the floor. The old man had the most evil eyes he had ever seen, but was smiling happily.  
Patience looked at him curiously, but didn't speak. Mekel groaned, and sat up slowly. "Are you all right, child?" She checked his pulse, to make sure that the gas hadn't left any damaging aftereffects.  
Mekel nodded. "You... you saved me," he said in disbelief. "You knew the right answers, but you wouldn't say them. Why?"  
Patience ignored his question, and helped him to his feet. "What are you even doing in here?" she asked sternly.  
"I... I was trying to prove myself. I don't know," Mekel said, confused and lost. "I thought that I could be - but I don't want to end up like him!" he said desperately. "I don't know, I don't know what to do now."  
Patience looked at him. "Go home."  
"I - I can't, I can't just go back. I can't just walk into the Jedi Temple and say I'm sorry for everything I've done!"  
"Why not?"  
Mekel looked at the floor, silent and ashamed.  
Patience gestured at the body on the floor. "Either you find the will to face your past, or you go back and you end up like that." She grabbed the young man by the shoulders and shook him fiercely. "Wake up, little fool! What do you think I spared you for?"  
"I'm sorry," said Mekel, "I - " he looked again at the corpse of Jorak Uln. "I'm going to Coruscant. I don't want to be a Sith. I'm not like that." He looked at her, really looked at her for the first time. "Thank you."  
Carth watched silently as the young man left the tomb, then turned to Patience. "Are you - "  
"You're not a Sith," she said curiously. "Nor a Jedi. What are you doing here?"  
"What?"  
"Wasn't there a girl, before? A pretty thing, with dark hair, innocent eyes, absurdly naïve? Where did she go?" She cocked her head and looked at him. A handsome man, a slight touch of the Force. He was looking at her very strangely. "Have we met?"  
"No," Carth shook his head in shock. "Don't do this to me, please. What happened? What happened here?"  
She looked around in confusion. "Wait, this isn't my cell - this is Korriban! What am I doing back on Korriban?" She put her hands to her head, trying to think, trying to remember. Suddenly she stopped, and looked at her hands in shock. "What? What? What's happened to me?" she gasped. She looked around in a panic, ignoring the man's attempts to calm her. "Where am I? Who am I? I - I can't remember, I can't think! Let me be, fool! I must think," she pushed him away, and staggered across the room, trying desperately to focus. "I must think. I was - "  
Dead, whispered a cold, dry voice in her mind that she knew belonged to one of the statues on the wall. To ordinary eyes, they were carvings. But she knew what they truly were.  
"Yes," she whispered, "but not completely. Not all of me."  
Of course not, the voice in her mind agreed. And now you are alive, whispered one of the other statues.  
"But not completely," she murmured again. She fell to her knees, pressing her hands against her head, trying to hold back the agony. "But why? Why am I here?"  
Indeed, whispered another statue. Why? Why are you here?  
"Patience, please," Carth begged. "Please talk to me. Please," he didn't know what else to say.  
She looked at him in surprise. "What did you say?"  
"Patience," he repeated, and knelt on the floor next to her. "It's your name. It's the only one I have for you."  
She whispered the name, listened to the unfamiliar sound, the taste of the word. "This isn't where I'm supposed to be," she said suddenly. "I don't belong here, this isn't me. I see now, I understand. Please," she smiled softly, "do forgive me for intruding. I'll be going now. My apologies."  
She collapsed, like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut, and fell right into his arms.  
"Patience?" said Carth, shaking with terror. "Please, please say something."  
She groaned softly. "Carth? It's so dark in here, please, get me out...."  
Carth lifted her in his arms, holding her tightly. She was still limp, barely breathing. "Come on, T3, let's get out of here."


	22. What Comes Apart

Carth walked back into the Academy, Patience still nestled in his arms.  
"What happened to her?" asked Mistress Ban with a curious touch of concern on her face. She gently stroked Patience's hair and face. "She looks quite bad."  
"She went into the tomb of Tulak Hord, and there was some old guy," Carth explained, uncertain. "I'm not really sure what exactly happened."  
"Oh, the crazy old hermit," said Mistress Ban. She looked curiously at Carth. "How did you get her away from him? He doesn't usually give up his victims so easily."  
Carth stared at her in confusion. "I didn't – she killed him. He's dead," he said slowly. "Victims? What – what did he do?"  
"Dead?" repeated Mistress Ban in shock. "Are you – quite certain?" She looked down at Patience again, unbelieving. "He was trying to teach people to be true Sith, at least, his version of a true Sith." She carefully brushed away a lock of hair from Patience's face, noting the bruises and the unnatural pallor of her skin. "And she killed him. Impressive. Very impressive, indeed."  
Carth held her closer, as if to protect her. In his mind, he could hear Bastila's soft voice explaining how and why the Sith torture their prisoners.  
Mistress Ban saw the movement, and laughed sadly. "So protective, so loyal." She stroked Patience's face once more, then stepped away. "You should take her to rest. Her Twi'lek servant is in the room, so she can help care for her."  
"Mission is here?" said Carth in surprise. Mistress Ban nodded, and he felt a weight fall from his shoulders. "Excuse me." Carth continued on his way to the room.  
"Hey, flyboy, where have you two – oh, gosh, what happened?" Mission jumped off the bed, and helped Carth set her down on the bed. She bent over Patience, and quickly started administering restoratives and kolto.  
"What are you doing here?" Carth asked her, as T3 entered the room and set the locks on the door.  
"Preachy told me to get over here and take care of Patience. She said something happened," Mission sighed in relief as Patience started breathing normally, but still in a deep sleep. "Gosh, she is so pretty," said Mission admiringly.  
"Focus!" said Carth dryly. He looked down at Patience, trying to think. "Will you be all right here by yourself for an hour or two? I want to check something on the ship."  
Mission looked at him. She knew perfectly well that he wanted to talk to Bastila, but they had all agreed it would be safest not to even speak her name within the confines of the Academy. "Yeah, you can go."  
"Thanks," said Carth gratefully. "Stay out of Master Wynn's way."  
"Why? Is he hot?"  
"I'm serious," Carth commanded. "And no, he's not. He's old. He's a very powerful Sith, who likes beautiful women."  
Mission grinned. "Thanks for the roundabout compliment, flyboy."  
"What?" Carth blushed. "I didn't – forget it, just try not to set anything on fire, that's all I ask." He took Patience's hand, and kissed it reverently, then left the room without saying anything more. He headed back to the ship, and walked into the main cabin, to find Bastila weeping heartbrokenly at the table. He touched her shoulder, confused, and she looked up at him, her grey eyes wide and soft with tears.  
"How is she?" Bastila sobbed. "Is she all right?" She flung herself at him, sobbing helplessly.  
For a moment, Carth couldn't answer.  
"I felt it, at first, then she cut me off, she wouldn't let me help her with the pain! He was torturing her, Carth, but she was trying to protect someone else! He was torturing her and he wouldn't stop!" Bastila collapsed into incoherent sobs again, "She wouldn't let me help her! I couldn't do anything!"  
Carth put his arms around her, and let her cry on his shoulder.  
"What is all this power for? I can shape the course of battles, but I couldn't help my friend! What good is it? What good am I?"  
"Bastila," he said softly. "Don't think like that."  
"She cut me off! She shut me out of her mind, and I - I just wanted to die!"  
"She was protecting you, too, Bas." Carth held her close, and felt a surge of sympathy for her. To be cut off from Patience would be like tasting Hell. "She'll be all right. She survived - more than that, she killed him and turned another Sith back to the Light."  
Bastila looked up at him in surprise. "She did what?"  
Carth laughed gently. "Yeah, she's not really good at pretending to be bad. You know, there was a moment - " Carth looked down at Bastila's dark hair and tear-filled eyes. "I think," he said carefully, "that someone else was speaking in her head."  
"What do you mean?" asked Bastila. She was still sniffling, and Carth was acutely aware of her softness.  
"She was very confused, at the end there, and thought she was in prison. But she didn't seem to recognize her hands."  
Bastila gasped in shock. "What?"  
"It's okay," Carth said, giving her a reassuring hug. "Whoever - or whatever - it was, they left."  
"Oh, my goodness!" Bastila cried in horror. "Oh, Carth, I need to see her," Bastila started crying again. "I need to make sure she's all right!"  
"Bastila, from what I've seen of Korriban, there is no way I'm letting you set foot on this planet," said Carth firmly. "I'll make that damn droid keep you on the ship if I have to."  
"But - but - Carth - "  
"Statement: Operating parameters updated. Order: The inferior Jedi is confined to the ship while we are on Planet One in the Horuset system."  
Carth glared at HK, but didn't correct the order. "She's asleep now, and Mission is with her. As soon as we can, we'll come back and hopefully get the hell off this planet, and never return."  
Bastila wept silently on his shoulder for a minute. Finally, she raised her head again. "Are you sure she's all right? You promise me?"  
Carth nodded.  
"Hey, what the hell? You're taking both Jedi now? How is that fair?" demanded Canderous.  
"You're so ridiculous," Bastila laughed shakily. "I'm crying, I look awful. No one is taking me anywhere."  
"Then why is Flyboy looking at you like that?"  
Bastila looked at Canderous with a frown, then back up at Carth again. "Don't be ridiculous, he isn't - oh, Carth," she said softly. "You are!"  
"I - I am not." He thought about letting go, but didn't.  
"What, you have a thing for waterworks or something? Get your own," snapped Canderous, and lifted Bastila into his arms.  
"Hey," Bastila protested weakly, but rested her head comfortably on the Mandalorian's shoulder, watching Carth all the while.  
"It's not bad enough that I get banished from roaming the Sith planet, you steal Patience, you send Mission away, and now Carth is trying to hog all the Jedi." Grumbling, he carried Bastila down to the galley.  
Carth blushed, and decided not to answer any of Canderous' growls before retreating to his room.

Patience woke slowly. She was cuddling with something very soft, and she looked down curiously. Mission was resting on her, half-asleep.  
"Are you awake?" Mission murmured softly, "or are you just moving around in your sleep again?"  
"I'm awake," Patience smiled. "What are you doing here?" She stretched. She was sore all over, and the smell of kolto pervaded the room. "Did I get hurt or something? It feels like I did."  
Mission grinned. "Yeah, you got all beat up. I got to play doctor."  
Patience raised an eyebrow. "You're too young to be thinking such thoughts." They both burst out laughing, and Patience slowly sat up. "My brain feels all fuzzy, and I don't remember anything. Did I at least get a new book?"  
"You were holding one of those musty old scrolls," Mission pointed to the table, "and you had a gazillion broken bones. I'm not surprised you don't remember anything."  
"Brain hurty," grinned Patience, and she picked up the scroll. "Oh! History!" She settled back on the bed, and started reading.  
With a grin, Mission snuggled up to her and watched her read.  
"Would you like a book to read? Or are you just enjoying yourself?"  
"I'm fine," Mission smiled. "I'm pretty sure you don't have anything with pictures anyway."  
Patience looked at her curiously. "You don't know how to read?"  
"A little. Not stuff like that."  
"Oh, I can teach you," Patience offered, then sat up as she sensed someone approaching the door. There was a polite knock on the door. "Come in."  
The door opened, and Mistress Ban entered. She smiled at the sight of the two young women comfortably wrapped around each other. "You have such interesting relationships with your slaves."  
"Well, they're not really slaves," Patience confessed. "I just saved them all from horrible deaths, so I keep them."  
Mistress Ban laughed sweetly, and sat down on the bed with Patience. "So, are you ready to present yourself to Master Wynn? I'm sure that you've earned more than enough prestige by now." She ran her hands gently through Patience's hair. "Are you feeling better after your ordeal? Master Wynn was quite amused to hear that you had killed his old Master."  
Patience settled herself more comfortably, with her head in Mistress Ban's lap. "I'll be fine," she assured her, "a little more kolto and I'll be all set. I suppose I should go talk to Master Wynn. That's the only way to get into the last tomb, isn't it?"  
"Yes, Master Wynn will be in the tomb of the great Naga Sadow." Mistress Ban looked down at Patience. "And what will you do when you get there, I wonder?"  
Patience sighed. "Why are you here?"  
"Me?" asked Mistress Ban in surprise. "I am a Sith."  
Patience shook her head. "You know full well he's going to try and kill you. You don't want to kill him - you want to make things right."  
Mistress Ban stared at her. "What - how do you know that?"  
"I can sense it. I even agree with you. So why are you here, herding unruly students and jockeying for a cushy seat instead of out there, taking down slavers and putting a dent in the slave trade?"  
Mistress Ban frowned. "It's not - it's not that easy."  
"Yes, it is." Patience looked up at her. "You don't have to be a Sith to use the Force. You can be a Jedi without the Order. But if you aren't doing what the Force wants you to do, you'll never be happy."  
Mistress Ban continued to look down at her. "You know, some people would think of this as your way of getting rid of me so that you have a clear field to be Master Wynn's second-in-command."  
"And what do you think?"  
"I don't think you would be anyone's second-in-command," said Mistress Ban dryly.  
"Do you need help hotwiring a ship?" said Mission excitedly. "I'm really good at that."  
"She is," Patience smiled. "But you have to listen to her go on about how much fun I am."  
Mistress Ban smiled. "May I borrow your - friend - for a little while?"  
"Of course," Patience grinned. "But you can't take her with you. Trust me, I also have a Wookiee and you don't want to mess with him."  
Mistress Ban laughed, and rose slowly. "You are a very interesting woman. I hope to be half as interesting as you someday." She reached out and shook hands with Patience in farewell.  
"What? No kiss?" said Mission in disgust. "You people are so boring!"  
"Mission!" Patience stared at her. "What is wrong with you?"  
"Wrong with me? You've got two hot Twi'leks in the same room as you, you're shaking hands, and you want to know what's wrong with me?" Mission shook her head sadly, and Mistress Ban burst into genuine laughter.  
"Okay, just go, help Yuthura, come back here, and don't set anything on fire."  
Mistress Ban giggled, unable to stop herself. "Well, you could start a little fire," she suggested. Her smile dropped years from her age, and already her eyes were starting to lose the yellow tinge of the Dark Side.  
"I'm not listening," said Patience, and went back to reading. "I know nothing about this." She had just finished reading the history of Korriban and the True Sith, as written by one Jorak Uln, when the door opened. Patience looked up. "Carth!" Completely forgetting her injuries, she bounced out of bed into his arms.  
"Patience!" He picked her up and laid her on the bed again. "What are you doing out of bed?"  
"Ow," she winced, but held tightly to him. "It was worth it." She kissed his cheek.  
Carth smiled at her. "Where did Mission go?"  
"Oh," Patience waved vaguely at the door, "she's helping Yuthura steal a ship."  
"Yuthura? Mistress Ban?"  
Patience nodded, and snuggled closer to Carth. "You're warm and fuzzy."  
Carth sighed. "Why is - wait, I don't care." He lay down with her, moved so that he could cover her with his body, and kissed her. "You're soft and warm," he whispered between kisses. "Oh, hey, your ribbon fell off."  
Patience laughed, and Carth kissed her hair, before returning to her luscious lips for more kisses.  
"Ack! You're going to get her all sticky!" Mission complained. "Get your hand out of there."  
"Don't you ever knock?" Carth demanded, panting slightly as he pulled away from Patience.  
Patience looked up at Mission with amusement. "Wait, you yell at me for not making out with Yuthura, and then you yell at me for making out with Carth? That's a little one-sided."  
"I'm sorry, what did you just say?"  
Mission grinned at Carth. "Two chicks making out is super hot. There are normal couples everywhere, where's the fun in that?" She pulled Carth away from Patience. "Now get off her, so I can finish patching her up. You can watch if you like," she offered slyly.  
"What?" Carth stared at her. "You're underage! Besides, Patience doesn't like women. Do you?"  
"Not as much as she likes men, no," Mission agreed, and Patience burst into laughter at the look on Carth's face.  
"She's joking, Carth. Stop staring like that."  
"Well, no, I mean, I just.... I'll wait outside." Carth stood outside the room, trying not to think perverted thoughts about Patience, Mission, and Bastila. He heard a stifled giggle from the room, and groaned. "Now I'm never going to get this out of my head."  
One of the guards walked up, and stopped when he saw Carth leaning against the door. "What are you doing?"  
There was a burst of giggling from the two women inside.  
"I'd rather not answer that," groaned Carth. "Did you need something?"  
"Master Wynn would like all the students to gather. They're going to do the prestige count now."  
Carth sighed. "She'll be there in a few minutes."  
There was more giggling, a loud thump, and a surprised squeak, followed by even more giggling. Carth and the guard looked at each other, and Carth just shook his head.  
"Right." The guard turned and walked away.  
The door opened, and Patience peeked out. Her hair was neatly pulled back, and she was wearing a different set of red and purple armor.  
Carth stared at her. "Where is T3?"  
"Mission sent him back to the ship." Patience smiled at him. "Who were you talking to?"  
"A guard. Master Wynn wants you to go turn in your prestige or something."  
"Oh!" Patience checked her datapad. "It's time for that already? I guess Mission has to come with us."  
Mission bounced out of the room. "I'm ready!" she said cheerfully. "Let's go!"  
Carth glared at the little Twi'lek. "No way."  
"What?" Mission protested innocently.  
"Put your clothes on. Now."  
Mission burst into impish laughter, and ran back into the room to finish getting dressed.  
Patience smiled. "She changed her shirt because I got blood all over it," she explained. "We're just doing it to annoy you."  
Carth tried to keep frowning, but couldn't. "It's working," he smiled back at her. "I'm very disturbed."  
They both broke into giggles, trying to hold back the laughter and failing. Mission bounced out again, properly dressed this time, in a new skintight blood-red outfit.  
"Okay, let's go to the presentation, before we're too late." Patience smiled at her friends, and led them to the central auditorium, where Master Wynn was overseeing the presentations of the students aspiring to become full Sith.  
"Looks like we're a little late," Carth muttered as the body of a student fell from the dais.  
Master Wynn tossed the false sword after the body, and guards scurried up to clear the mess away. "Ah, you decided to join us after all," he smiled as Patience entered the hall. "Do come, and let me hear what you have to offer."  
Patience knelt gracefully, and signed to Carth to hand over the first scroll from the pile that he was holding. Master Wynn took the scroll, and glanced at it.  
"And what have we here?"  
"An artifact recovered from the tomb of the Sith Lord Marka Ragnos. A scroll, written in his own hand, containing instructions to one of his apprentices. There are some other scrolls as well," she said calmly, and Carth laid the other ancient texts on the table next to Master Wynn.  
Master Wynn's eyes opened very wide. "Was not the tomb guarded by an insane droid that killed anyone who approached the tombs?"  
Patience smiled. "I dealt with it, Master Wynn."  
Master Wynn smiled back at her. "Impressive. Most impressive. What else do you have there?"  
Carth handed over the next scroll.  
"A datapad containing research into the history of Korriban and the True Sith, as written by the late Jorak Uln, former Master of the Sith Academy." Patience didn't bother holding back a smile of satisfied triumph, and Master Wynn laughed cruelly.  
"Did you find anything in the tomb of Ajunta Pall?" asked Master Wynn.  
"I did," said Patience calmly. "A most wondrous blade." She smiled at Master Wynn. "And I'm keeping it."  
Master Wynn threw back his head and laughed uproariously. "You are magnificent, simply magnificent. The blade is yours." He looked over her again. "Tell me, have you seen Mistress Ban lately?"  
Patience blinked innocently. "I haven't seen her for a few hours. Is she missing?"  
Master Wynn smiled, and shook his head. "No matter. Come, let us go to the tomb of Naga Sadow, and there you can learn everything that you desire of the Sith." He looked at Carth and Mission. "Unfortunately, you must go alone. While you will be safe in the tomb, your servants will not."  
Patience nodded calmly. "I am ready, Master Wynn."  
"Then let us be on our way," he held out his hand to her and led her away.  
Carth watched them walk away with a sick feeling in his heart.


	23. Walking the Path

Patience watched in fascination as Master Wynn used the Force to deactivate the seals holding the tomb closed. "Such power," she murmured to herself. "Who would make such a seal?"  
Master Wynn smiled. "The ancient Sith knew that their secrets would draw seekers. Across space, across time – even across the bridges of memory. Come."  
Patience looked curiously at him, but didn't ask. The door closed behind them, but the tomb was well-lit and the air was fresh and sweet. Patience looked around. Unlike the other tombs, this one was neat and clean, and yet – "There's no one buried here," she said in surprise. "I don't sense anyone. Not a Sith Lord, anyway."  
"No," smiled Master Wynn. "The tomb was built by the great Naga Sadow, but he was not destined to rest here. His spirit rests far away, on one of the moons of Yavin. His tomb still serves a purpose, however." Master Wynn knelt down on the floor, in a meditative position. "Somewhere in this tomb lies a Sith lightsaber. Find it and bring it to me."  
"Is that all?" asked Patience curiously.  
"You may find other things of interest to you here. You may do with them what you will. When you have brought me the Sith lightsaber, we can talk more about your future with the Sith."  
Patience bowed politely, and left the chamber to go search the tombs.  
"And your past, jen'ari," Master Wynn whispered as she walked away.  
Patience wandered around the tomb, finding random things here and there on long dead skeletons. She killed the tomb guardians without thinking very much about it, defeated the puzzle protecting the interior of the tomb without considering how odd it was that she could so easily resolve a quandary that was meant to protect the inner sanctum of a Sith Lord, and finally walked into a small cave-like room adorned with a single giant statue and another Star Map, identical to the ones on Dantooine and Tatooine. Patience quickly downloaded the data from the map, then turned to examine the statue. The Star Map was older – had Naga Sadow's tomb been built to protect the map? She looked curiously up at the statue.  
It was of a tall, mostly Human man. She could see some signs of alien heritage in his face, and noted that the Sith lightsaber that Master Wynn had mentioned was lying at the base. She picked up the lightsaber. The statue's hand was outstretched, holding the distinctively red-gold Sun, Horuset, in one hand, and the rings of Korr – the two asteroid fields that surrounded Korriban – in the other.  
"Where are the planets?" she asked herself. "What an odd statue." She picked up the lightsaber, and turned it over in her hands. It was an old one, very damaged. The power crystals were gone, the casing was cracked. But there was still enough of it left for her to realize that this lightsaber had been heavily customized. Her chest tightened as she looked at the lightsaber again. The power couplings. The crystal insets. The wiring. It all seemed… familiar. And yet, she had never seen this lightsaber before, not that she remembered. She tested the weight of it in her hand. It was balanced for a pair. This was the main hand weapon.  
She looked at the lightsaber again, then back up at the statue.  
"There is only one planet in the Horuset system," said Master Wynn calmly. He walked slowly into the room behind her, and Patience turned slowly to meet his eyes. "Korriban, and its seven moons."  
"Yes, of course," Patience agreed lamely.  
"And yet," Master Wynn mused, as if to himself, "there is no trace of any pre-industrial development here. Did the original Sith species come here from another system, before being exposed to Fallen Jedi and merging with baseline Humanity?" He looked at her curiously. "A true mystery, is it not? I remember my predecessor once made a similar comment. Wondering if perhaps there had been another world in this system, and that its untimely destruction led to the creation of the rings of Korr." He looked at the statue, then at her again. "Or perhaps, like so many ancient secrets, it is simply hidden from those who are not worthy."  
"I found the lightsaber," said Patience slowly. "But I thought that I was supposed to bring it to you."  
Master Wynn laughed. "I was curious to see how you would react." He held out his hand for the lightsaber, but Patience looked down at the damaged and battered weapon again instead of handing it to him.  
"Whose lightsaber was this?"  
Master Wynn's thin lips curved in a smile. "It belonged to the greatest Sith of our time, and perhaps any other. The Dark Lord Revan himself."  
Patience stiffened. "Revan."  
"Indeed. I recovered it from the ruins of his flagship, after he was killed. Have you heard the story?"  
Patience tried to remember. "I – Jedi were attacking the ship, and Malak fired on the bridge, killing them all." She froze. "That's not true! That's a lie! Some of the Jedi survived." The words escaped her before she realized that this was something that the Sith Master did not need to know.  
"No doubt." Master Wynn smiled. "And it is possible that some part of Revan survived as well."  
Patience wasn't sure how to answer that.  
"Possible? No, it is almost certain," he said, looking her over. "Some part of Revan's greatness is hidden within you. It has drawn you here, to this place, seeking release."  
She had a sudden flash of the whip in Revan's hand, of a helpless and broken form screaming in agony. "Greatness?" she snarled. "Revan was a monster!"  
"And there speaks the Jedi," smiled Master Wynn, and Patience flushed brightly. "I cannot imagine what it must be like, bearing Revan's memories, trying to hold his mighty will in check, and still acting as a true Jedi. I would think that it would drive you mad."  
Patience glared at him.  
"I mean you no harm," said Master Wynn gently. "I wish only to help." He held out his hands, carefully. "Permit me to bear this burden instead. Give up Revan's memories. Let go of whatever you still hold of him, and I will allow you to leave Korriban unharmed."  
"Allow me?" she said sharply. "How would you stop me?" The words didn't seem to come from her, but from something outside the control of her mind. Patience stepped away from him, and put her hands to her head. "Leave me alone, fool," she hissed, trying to fight back the wave of darkness in her mind, the bitter taste of Revan's mind in hers. "Get away from me!"  
Master Wynn spoke, in the strangely familiar and soothing language of the Ancient Sith.  
Patience frowned at him, and heard herself answer him, but her mind wouldn't process the words. Rage, wild and uncontrollable, flared up inside her. How dare they use her this way? I am not a puppet, she tried to say, but the words wouldn't come out, and instead, she saw a memory of the Great Library on Coruscant, stacks and stacks of books, and the sudden realization that she had finally read them all.  
She came to herself with a shock, and dodged to one side as Master Wynn's lightsaber flashed where she had been standing seconds ago. She drew her lightsabers in surprise. "What? What happened? What did I say?" Master Wynn didn't answer, instead continuing to attack, and she defended herself from his blows. "I can't believe I'm getting in trouble for something when I don't even know what I said! And you know I don't know!"  
Master Wynn laughed grimly, but didn't answer, or stop attacking.  
"Look, can't we talk about this?" she pleaded, and then cringed in horror as the sibilant words of the Sith language spilled from her lips. "Look, can you be quiet for a second? I'm trying not to kill anyone here!"  
"Unfortunately," laughed Master Wynn, "one of us must fall here. There is no other choice."  
"Oh, that's just ridiculous," Patience protested. "Why are you scared of what some stupid ghost has to say?"  
"It is not fear that drives me," said Master Wynn calmly. "It is a command, and I must obey."  
"What?" Jen'ari – Dark Lord, her mind finally translated. Revan's title in the language of the Sith. Revan wasn't just a Sith Lord – he was the Master of all Sith in the galaxy, and had personally made most of them. "But he's dead!"  
"Is he?" Master Wynn smiled strangely. "He is no more dead than I am."  
Patience swore under her breath. "Well, this just sucks."  
Master Wynn laughed in genuine amusement, surprised by her reaction. "I suspect that if you submit, this would be easier to deal with. But," he smiled, "if you were the kind of woman who would submit so tamely, you would not be a fit vessel for the spirit of Lord Revan."  
"I am not a vessel!" Patience raged. "I am a person!" She broke down his guard, and drove him back across the room. "I have my own will, my own dreams! I am not just some pawn for Revan's mad schemes to take over the galaxy!" She swung her off-hand lightsaber in a swift arc, ripping through the shields protecting Master Wynn, and then with a lightning-fast thrust of her main lightsaber, drove the blade through his chest.  
Master Wynn cried out once, then fell silently to the ground.  
"Dammit!" Patience stamped her tiny feet in frustration, and gave a quick scream of rage. "Now what?" Patience looked around in despair and confusion. "How am I supposed to get out of here now?" She searched Master Wynn's body. There was a credit chit, and a small pouch. Patience checked the amount on the chit, and smiled. "If I make it out of here alive, I can go shopping!" She opened the bag, and poured out the scintillating crystals.  
One was violet - the same shade that she had made for her own lightsaber. Patience stared at it in shock, not sure what to think. She looked at the other crystals, and picked up a crystal, glittering with gold flecks suspended within the formation. As she touched it, the crystal began to glow from within, shining brightly and purely.  
Patience looked around, and walked over to the empty sarcophagus behind the statue. It was clean, and stable enough for an impromptu workbench. She quickly rebuilt her main lightsaber, using some of the components from Revan's damaged lightsaber and the glowing crystal, and then upgraded her off-hand lightsaber with the crystal she had been using in her main lightsaber.  
She activated them, and listened to the soft hum with a thrill of pleasure. This was how they were supposed to sound, she knew it. She knew this tone, deep in her soul. She made a few passes with her lightsabers, testing the weight and power. "Almost perfect," she grinned. "And good timing, too, since I'm going to have to fight my way back to my ship because someone can't keep his damn mouth shut!" There was no answer, just a general sense of irritation. Patience ran back to the entrance of the tomb, unsettled and annoyed beyond words.  
The door was sealed again. Master Wynn must have closed the door, and now she had to get it open again. She touched the door, trying to sense how the lock was supposed to work, and drew back in horror.  
There was someone - something - in there. A person, a spirit, a soul, trapped for eternity, waiting for the touch of a Force-sensitive mind so that they could fulfill their purpose, and open the door.  
"How horrible!" she choked out. "How unfair!" And she couldn't set them free - they were bound so strongly that they could no longer exist in any other form. Removing them from the door would be murder. The door responded to her, and she felt a soft touch of amusement at her grief. The door was a door, except when it was ajar, the door laughed dryly, whispering darkly in her mind. She stared at the door, and watched as it opened obediently for her. She stepped out of the tomb, into the cold night air of the Valley of the Dark Lords. Patience could feel herself tottering on the brink of madness. "Who am I?" she asked desperately. "What am I doing here?"  
In a wild panic, her mind reached out to the one thing that she knew she could hold onto. She could sense Carth, his love and adoration of her, his worries, his fears - he was in combat - he was being attacked by the Sith students. He needed her. She ran across the desert, faster than she had ever moved before, barely touching the ground. The door from the valley was closed, and she didn't even test to see if the door was locked. The door buckled under the force of her mental command, and flew from twisted hinges into the room beyond.  
Not all of the students were fighting - some were running away, some had turned on their classmates - but the majority of the Sith students were attacking Carth and Mission, who had taken over the small armory, and were defending themselves.  
The Sith saw her at the door, and turned to face her, but she moved, blindingly fast, faster than thought, and closed the distance between them. Suddenly, she was in the center of the group, turning their numbers against them again. Her lightsabers whirled, her speed incredible, her strikes unerring. They fell before her like sheaves of wheat in a harvest of blood and pain. No longer was she sparing them - Patience struck to kill, and swiftly, a dark mercy in every fearful blow. It soon became evident that to stand against her was a death sentence, and the Sith students drew back in terror, leaving her standing over a pile of bodies.  
"We're leaving now," she said grimly, and watched the students fall back even farther. "Come on, let's go!" She led Carth and Mission to the main entrance. Not all the students here were so completely cowed, and every step of the way had to be conquered. Patience cut down guards, students, fallen Jedi, anyone who tried to stop her. "This is all your fault," she muttered bitterly to herself. "We could have walked out of here peacefully if it wasn't for you!"  
"Hurry, Patience! That double-crossing scumbag sent the Sith after our ship!" shouted Carth over the noise of the battle.  
Patience blinked in surprise. "What?" She killed the guard in front of her. "Stupid Sith! We could have been friends."  
Carth laughed. "I'm not really sure how you thought that was ever going to work."  
"Yeah, Sith don't have friends," Mission chimed in. "Just people they haven't backstabbed yet."  
Patience sighed, and they ran through the short stretch of desert that separated the Academy from the port. "Well, I'm glad that's over with."  
An explosion shattered the door they were approaching, and then a pair of bodies came flying out of Dreshdae.  
"Oh, there you are," said Canderous. They could hear the pleasure in his voice, but his face was hidden beneath his mask and the smoke from the fires. "Let's get out of here before the Sith reinforcements show up."  
Patience pushed past Canderous, and started back to the ship.  
"So… low profile, eh?"  
"Please be quiet," Patience winced, and Canderous chuckled.  
"What happened to Master Wynn?" asked Carth. "Please tell me you didn't kill him."  
"Fine. He tripped and fell on my lightsaber. Twice."  
Carth groaned. "No wonder all the students went crazy. You know that students can sense when their Master passes, right?"  
"Look, I got the stupid Star Map," Patience snapped, "I did everything I was supposed to do! Leave me alone!"  
Carth started in surprise, and ran up to her. "I'm sorry, Patience. Are you all right?" He laid his hand, gently, on her arm, and she threw herself into his arms, sobbing wildly.  
"I don't know! I don't know anything anymore! I just want to leave this place. I got the Star Map, can we go now? Please?"  
Carth lifted her easily, and held her close. "I should never have let you go anywhere alone with him," he murmured softly.  
"You seriously have a thing for waterworks, don't you?" grumbled Canderous.  
Carth glared at the Mandalorian. "Get moving. We're leaving this miserable rock as soon as we're all on board."  
Patience clutched gratefully at Carth, and tried to stop sniffling pathetically, and he gently kissed her before moving on.


	24. Wind and Water

Patience looked around, trying to remember where she was and what she was doing here. She was lying on a pile of pillows and blankets, snuggling up to Bastila, Mission, and Juhani, and they all smelled like chocolate and alcohol.  
Juhani made a soft noise. "I think I passed out," she said slowly, and sat up.  
Patience blinked at her in surprise. "How much did you have to drink?"  
"Canderous kept bringing more," said Juhani sheepishly. "And you kept drinking, so I did the same."  
Patience waited for her head to stop spinning. "I think I had too much to drink."  
Bastila made a soft noise, and pulled Patience back down to her.  
Juhani laughed softly, and stroked Patience's hair. "She's right, you need more rest."  
Patience considered protesting, but instead let Bastila and Juhani pet her back into unconsciousness. She woke later, as someone lifted her from the pillows, to a pair of warm, strong arms.  
"Nope, this one is yours," she heard Canderous chuckle. "Unless you want to trade."  
"Don't make me hurt you, Mandalorian. Put her down."  
"Where?"  
"On Juhani, or something. Here, Zaalbar," there was a quiet growl in response. "Yeah, she's still out cold. Just put her in her bed."  
Canderous had set her down in Juhani's lap, and Patience watched curiously as the men cleared up the mess in the main cabin. For a moment, she couldn't remember why they had been drinking. Then she remembered – another shared vision, another glimpse of Revan's past. The Star Map on Kashyyk, where the Wookiees were being enslaved and sold for heavy labor on other planets.  
She felt very dizzy and hungry, and had a sneaking suspicion that she had been kissing Bastila while Carth was out of the room. Patience put her hand to her head and tried to remember how to remember. Instead, she had a dim vision of the world through a kolto tank, and listening to doctors talk about reconstruction and droids listing all of her internal organs, verifying that everything was in working order. "Shows what they know," she muttered.  
"Shh," whispered Juhani, laughing softly, "maybe Carth will go away again, and we can make out some more."  
Patience blushed as she remembered playing tricks on Carth and Canderous with Juhani's help.  
"I heard that," grumbled Carth. "Why does everyone have to hit on my girlfriend? Why can't you go after Mission or Bastila?"  
"You can make out with Bastila," grinned Canderous. "I won't stop you."  
Juhani laughed, and helped Patience to her feet.  
"What's so interesting about two girls making out anyway?" Patience mumbled. "I don't get it."  
"Probably because it always involves you," said Canderous. "Try to convince Juhani and Bastila to make out, and then we can watch. It'll make more sense then."  
"Canderous." Carth glared at him.  
"We can all watch," the Mandalorian grinned. "It'll be great!"  
"Anyway, are you feeling any better?" Carth stroked her hair. "Well, less stressed out anyway."  
Patience looked at him. He didn't belong in space, he belonged on a planet, on a farm, his hands dirty, sweat rolling off his back from laboring with the planet, surrounded by his sons and coming home to his loving wife.  
"Patience? Are you all right?"  
She threw her arms around him, kissed him wildly, hungering for that sense of belonging that holding him always gave her. That sense of home.  
Carth drew her to him, holding her tightly, meeting her wild need with his own desire, his own hunger. "You taste like apples," he whispered, "and it makes me want to roll in the hay with you."  
"That sounds wonderful," Patience smiled at him, and kissed him again.  
Carth finally pulled away from her with a laugh. "We chased everyone away." He looked around the room. "Well, almost everyone. Did you need something, little guy? Or were you just taking notes?"  
T3 beeped an explanation, then zipped away.  
"Already?" Patience sighed. "I thought Kashyyk would be farther away."

"Czerka again?" said Patience as Carth dealt with the landing permits.  
"They're everywhere. They're like gizka." One of the Czerka employees glared at Canderous, and he returned her look. "Oh, try it. Please. I'm bored."  
"Mandalorian filth," snarled the guard.  
"Watch your mouth," hissed Patience. "At least the Mandalorians fought with honor."  
The guard was about to reply, but something in her eyes stopped her, and she drew back.  
Bastila took Canderous and Patience by the arm, and dragged them away. "Please do not start anything. At least, not until we've gotten what we came here for. Come on."  
"You know," said Canderous casually, "I've been meaning to ask you something, Patience, but I don't know if you know the answer."  
"What?" Patience looked at him, craning backwards so that she could see him past Bastila, who didn't stop or move out of the way.  
"Are you a Mandalorian? Like, one of the splinter clans, maybe?"  
"What?" Bastila looked sharply at Canderous.  
"There are a lot of times when she acts like a Mandalorian Crusader, or one of the original Shadows. Very old-fashioned, but still, very Mando." Canderous looked curiously at Patience. "You don't know, do you?"  
"Shadows?" said Bastila, confused.  
"The Warriors of the Shadow," said Patience softly, her mind dancing off to a half-memory, watching her father sharpen his swords and clean his armor, "the first-born of Mandalore."  
"Let all those who stand before us light the night sky in flame!" sang Canderous, in a surprisingly good bass voice, the ancient Mandalorian words ringing through the forest.  
"Our vengeance burns brighter still!" she joined him for the last line, and they stared at each other.  
"You know the words." Canderous smiled at her.  
"Will you please stop that!" Bastila hissed. The Czerka employees were staring at them. Most of them were former Republic soldiers, who had been discharged from the Republic military with crippling injuries - mental or physical - resulting from the Mandalorian wars.  
Canderous grinned savagely. "Let them come," he snarled. "If they haven't learned yet not to mess with Mando'ade, we can teach them."  
"Don't you ever think of anything besides fighting?" Bastila demanded.  
"But fighting is life," said Patience slowly. "Conflict - struggle - that is the only way to grow."  
Bastila looked at her. "There is no chaos - there is harmony. Every action that we take has a consequence. If we only focus on conflict as a means to improving ourselves, what do we lose? What becomes of our ability to live with each other? Our ability to work together without reducing every relationship to a confrontation?"  
Patience blinked in surprise. "Oh. That's - that's a very good question."  
"Don't listen to her," urged Canderous. "You'll end up a boring old Jedi, sitting in a cave, if she has her way."  
Patience smiled. "And how do you think I should end up?"  
He grinned. "I don't think," he pulled his arm away from Bastila, "I don't think this is the right place to answer that."  
Bastila frowned at him. "Your answer either involves guns or being naked, doesn't it?"  
"Or both," said Patience cheerfully. "My answer is totally different." She glanced back at Carth, who had finished with the permits, and was running up to join them. Zaalbar and Mission were trailing behind him. "My answer involves a pile of hay, and some babies." She broke away from Bastila, and ran back to Carth.  
"Okay, she's got a point there. I can't argue with the pile of babies." Canderous grinned at Bastila, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. She was staring after Patience, her face strangely calm.  
Patience bounced into Carth's arms. "I want to climb a tree!"  
Zaalbar growled at her disapprovingly.  
"Oh, phooey," Patience frowned. "The trees would love it! Nobody normal wants to be sacred and untouchable. They want to be climbed, and have birds nest in their branches, and have flowers and vines grow around them," she paused in her happy babbling to kiss Carth, because he was watching her, and trying not to laugh. "What?"  
"They're trees, they don't feel things."  
"Nonsense!" Patience exclaimed. "They're alive, they grow, they're touched by the Force. They feel things." She bounced over to the edge of the platform, and looked down. The great trees of Kashyyk stretched high above them, and far below them. "Wow. How do you get to the bottom?"  
The Wookiee growled at her, and Patience grinned.  
"Well, let's go talk to the chieftain, then. Don't worry, Zaalbar. You'll be fine. We'll explain everything."

"I really love when you explain things," grinned Canderous as the primitive elevator descended through the trees, to the Shadowlands of Kashyyk.  
"Shut up!" Patience blushed.  
Bastila sighed. "At least we're still heading in the right direction." She shook her head. "Alienating the chieftain - "  
"He's not the real chieftain!" burst out Mission, trying not to break into tears again. "He's a - an upsurger!"  
"Usurper," corrected Carth gently.  
Their Wookiee guide growled warningly.  
"You shut up!" screamed Mission. "Chuundar is a liar! Zaalbar is innocent, and it's all Chuundar's fault!"  
The Wookiee would have growled a threat at the small, sobbing young Twi'lek woman, but Patience moved slightly before he could speak. Fully aware of what the small Human could do, the Wookiee chose to err on the side of caution, and settled for glaring sullenly at his passengers.  
"Patience," sighed Bastila. "Please think about what you are doing, before you do it."  
"It's a basket, Bastila. It goes up, and it goes down. We don't actually need anyone to guide us." Patience continued watching the Wookiee, one of Chuundar's adherents. "It's not like we can miss the ground."  
"We could fall to our deaths," Carth pointed out helpfully.  
Patience looked around, at the interlaced branches and vines surrounding them as they descended. "Unlikely," she said finally. "There's enough time to stash you all safely."  
Bastila hid her face in her hands. "Please, Patience, just stop." She put a warning hand on Canderous' arm. "And you, don't start. Just don't."  
The elevator continued moving as silence fell over the small group.  
"So, how did Revan and Malak get to this Star Map?" asked Carth, trying to break the silence.  
The Wookiee growled an answer, his grudging admiration clear even to those who didn't understand the Wookiee language.  
"He jumped?" said Patience in disbelief. "What, all the way down?" She looked back up at the slowly receding platforms of the Wookiee city.  
Their guide nodded.  
"You're crazy," Patience muttered under her breath, and saw a sudden flash of memory - Revan's, but not such a dark one. Malak, sneering slightly, and Revan, throwing down a challenge: Be the first to reach the Shadowlands. The two of them, friends now, still young and daring, laughing at each other. They raced to reach the elevator - dead Wookiees scattered around them, wounded ones crawling away. Malak jumped in, and started the descent process, and Revan jumped right into the trees, running along the broad trunks, leaping from vine to vine. Heart-stopping drops. Foolhardy leaps from branches no thicker than a man's arm. Power and grace evident in every move. Patience opened her eyes, and looked up again. She could see the path that Revan had taken. Through Revan's eyes, it seemed so easy. She could easily do the same, if she chose to. Patience shook her head, and looked at Carth again. "I'm not going that way," she said firmly.  
"What?"  
"Oh," she blushed as she realized she had spoken out loud. "Nothing."  
Carth grinned, and pulled her to his side. He put his arms around her, and whistled tunelessly for a moment.  
Patience felt her hair spill over her ears, and realized that he had pulled off her ribbon. "Carth!"  
"What?"  
She hugged him quickly, then walked over to Mission. "Don't worry. We'll make it right." She wrapped her arms around Mission, and hugged her tightly.  
"I want Zaalbar," Mission whispered, wiping away tears. "We never should have come here!"  
"But if we didn't come, then nobody would stop Czerka from kidnapping Wookiees and selling them as slaves. We have to stop it, we can't just run away."  
"I don't want to lose Zaalbar!" Mission sobbed. "He's - he's too important!"  
"You're not going to lose him. Have a little faith," Patience smiled.  
The elevator touched the ground. They were in the Shadowlands, the untamed surface of Kashyyk. One of the most dangerous places in the galaxy.  
"Oh, look at that bird! Thing! What is that?" Patience ran up to the small animal, which turned its head upside down to look at her. "Wow!"  
Carth tried not to laugh, and Bastila sighed.  
The little animal fluttered over to Mission, and stared at her as well. Mission tried not to be awed by all the strange flora and fauna. A child of the urban jungle, she had never seen anything like this before. "Hey! That plant tried to bite me!" Mission drew back from the carnivorous plant, and poked it with a stick to make it stop trying to devour her. "Eww!"  
"Everyone, stick together," commanded Bastila. "Do not wander off. Patience! That means you!"  
"But - the butterfly - " Patience stared sadly as the large butterfly disappeared into the shadow of the trees.  
"Get back here!"  
Patience sighed, and walked back to Bastila.  
Bastila braided Patience's hair and put it up again before they started walking. They followed the rude forest path, searching for the Wookiee that the erstwhile Chieftain, Chuundar, claimed was a Madclaw. Freyyr, the father of both Chuundar and Zaalbar.   
The path stretched out into a wide clearing. Patience gasped as she saw an elderly Human male in the center of the clearing, surrounded by a group of vicious predator lizards. The lizards hissed and snarled aggressively, circling the old man. Patience drew her lightsaber and rushed forward, but the lizards had already started their charge.  
To her shock, she saw the man flip backwards, a sparkling green lightsaber in his hand. The lightsaber flashed, cutting down the lizards that attacked, and the others scattered.   
"Damn lizards," muttered the old man. "They don't ever learn. Now, what have we here?" He deactivated his lightsaber, and looked curiously at Patience. "You might want to be careful, girl. There are more of those beasts in the underbrush."  
"Who – who are you?" asked Patience in shock. "What are you doing down here? Nobody said anything about any Jedi on Kashyyk!"  
The old man laughed, a little sadly. "There are no Jedi on Kashyyk, girl. Well," he looked at Bastila and Juhani, "there weren't any. Name's Bindo, Jolee Bindo. You've never heard of me."  
Patience shook her head. "But you have a lightsaber. And you're not a Sith."  
"That doesn't make me a Jedi, fool girl. That's like saying anyone carrying a bowcaster is a Wookiee, just because they're not wearing a Czerka uniform." He smiled at her confusion. "Look, come to my camp and we can talk a bit more. Don't know if you'll all fit inside," he said doubtfully as he looked at the crew following her. "But, you're welcome to try."  
She fell silent, and followed the old man down the path to his home, built into the trunk of one of the great trees. This section of the path was suspiciously clear of predators, and she could sense the peacefulness of the Light as she stood before his home, the same sense of safety and comfort that pervaded the enclave on Dantooine.  
"Well, well," chuckled the old man. He was dark-skinned, balding, but still sported a moustache and the outlines of a beard. "Welcome to my home, such as it is. Pull up a stump, make yourself comfortable." The hut didn't really have a door, and the floor was covered with sweet-smelling rushes. Jolee gestured to the various flat surfaces in the room.  
Canderous sat down on the floor, and looked curiously at the old man who claimed he wasn't a Jedi. Mission and Juhani joined him on the floor, while Bastila sat primly on one of the stumps that had been carved into a rude chair. Patience stood in the doorway, watching, and Jolee finally sat down at a stump in front of the fire. Carth found a crudely carved cup, and filled it with water from a crystal vase on the table. He handed the drink to Patience, and it seemed to wake her from her shock.  
"Oh, thank you, Carth." She blushed, remembering her manners. "I'm sorry, we didn't introduce ourselves. I'm Patience Keçrye."  
"Of course you are," grumbled the old man, and shook her hand. His hand was firm, and his grip showed no signs of his old age. "And who are the rest of these people?" He looked at Carth.  
"I'm Carth Onasi," Carth shook hands with the old man as well. Jolee turned his hand over, and looked curiously at Carth's palm. "What?"  
"Nothing, just looking." Jolee turned away, and let the others introduce themselves. "So," he stroked his beard, "Jedi, eh? On Kashyyk? What brings you here?"  
"We are seeking a Star Map," said Bastila suddenly. "An ancient relic, that holds the key to whatever power enabled Revan and Malak to create an empire out of thin air."  
Jolee smiled strangely, and looked at Bastila, then at Patience. "Following in their footsteps, eh? Well, I figured that's what you came down here for. Not much else to find."  
"There's a Wookiee down here, too," said Patience. "Chuundar asked us to kill him, but I don't know if he can be trusted."  
"Don't know? Girl, you know full well whether or not you trust Chuundar. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"  
Patience sighed. "Every time I go with my instincts, fights start and then Bastila yells at me."  
Jolee chuckled. "Well, if it really bothers you, then just do whatever she tells you to do."  
"There must be some way to resolve this situation without resorting to lightsabers and guns," Bastila insisted.  
"I'll tell you what," said Jolee, "there are some Czerka poachers just east of here. You get rid of them, and I'll help you find Freyyr and your Star Map, and show you a way that might get rid of Chuundar peacefully."  
"Oh great," sighed Patience. "A test. I thought you said you weren't a Jedi."  
"Don't talk back to your elders, girl. Now get going." Jolee settled himself down by the table, and picked up a battered old datapad.  
Mission stood up, and shouldered her bag again.  
"Where do you think you're going?" said the old man, sharply.  
"Uh –" Mission looked at Patience, then at the old man. "I was going with Patience, to help her."  
"Sit your little underage ass back down," said Jolee firmly. "I didn't say I wanted to test her ability to throw people at a problem until it goes away, did I? And you, you can put your Mand'ori ass back on the grass, too. Republic boy? Do I gotta tell you, too?"  
"Now, wait just a second," started Carth.  
"No, it's okay," said Patience gently. "It's fine. How the problem is solved is just as important as whether it is solved, remember?"  
Carth grumbled something uncomplimentary, but sat down at the table again.  
Jolee snorted impatiently, and pretended to go back to reading his datapad.  
"Just east of here, you said?" Patience asked, trying not to giggle.  
"What, you're getting forgetful at your age? Just head along the path, you can't miss it. And what's so funny, anyway?"  
"You just want me to get those darned kids off your lawn."  
Bastila was too shocked to say anything, and Juhani giggled before she could stop herself. Carth choked back his laughter, but Canderous and Mission burst out laughing. Jolee snorted, trying to pretend that he wasn't holding back a laugh.  
"Go on, get out of here. Come back when those poachers are gone." He gave his datapad a little shake, and started reading as Patience left the little hut, with Bastila and Juhani.

"That was… interesting." Jolee looked at Patience, as if trying to read something written on her face.  
"What are you, channeling Master Vandar now?" Patience grinned at the old man, and made a face. "I didn't kill anybody, and I still get yelled at and everyone is looking at me funny anyway. I can't win!"  
Jolee chuckled. "Easy there, girl. I was just curious. You could have killed them all with no problem, or even used the Force to change their minds."  
"But instead," Bastila raged, "you told them a pack of lies and tricked them into letting you disable the barrier keeping the predators out of this area!"  
Another group of Czerka employees ran past Jolee's hut, screaming in terror as they ran away from a giant insect.  
"Oh, they'll be fine," scoffed Patience. "Serves them right. And nobody got hurt, so I don't see why you're so angry."  
"And that," snarled Bastila, "is why I am so angry! You are a Jedi! You're supposed to be protecting people, not using them for your own amusement!"  
"Is she?" Jolee looked at Patience curiously. "She doesn't dress like a Jedi."  
"Well," Bastila said nervously, "it's a little complicated."  
"So is anything worth doing," said Jolee, and took another sip from his drink as the Czerka employees ran back again. "It's the other way, you damn fools." The Czerka employees turned back and ran off again.  
"I didn't do it to amuse myself," muttered Patience.  
"What was that?" said Jolee sharply.  
"I did it to teach them a lesson. They didn't need the barrier to be safe. They have weapons, and they're trained soldiers, but they were cowering behind a machine and gloating about how great they were. Their leader was anyway. The others hated him, and didn't want to be there, but were too comfortable to leave. Look at them." The first group of Czerka employees ran by again. "The guards are laughing. They're enjoying themselves for the first time in months, probably. Their boss is rethinking his career path, and won't be able to yell at them the way he used to. He knows it, and they know it, too."  
Bastila sighed.  
"Hrmph," Jolee took another sip of his drink. "Maybe she is a Jedi after all. But she's certainly a weird one. Anyway, we should get going." He stood up. "You weren't planning to bring this entire pack with you, are you?"  
"Well, um…" Patience looked at Carth.  
"Listen, girl, we got things to do. We can't be babysitting every ragtag mercenary and half-pay Republic officer in this section of space."  
"What." Carth glared at the old man.  
"Look, Carth, could you take this," she handed him the droid parts that they had found just before the Czerka camp, "and go talk to that merchant guy? I'm pretty sure he's up to something shady with that poor tech he has working for him." She smiled gratefully at him. "We'll be fine."  
"But what if you need someone to open a lock or something?" said Mission hopefully.  
"If I don't get to go, you don't either. Now, scoot." Carth pulled her along with him. "You too, ragtag mercenary."  
"I'll have you know, these rags are brand new," grinned Canderous. "C'mon, Mission, we can go hang out with Zaalbar. Maybe set something on fire."  
"You, too, wounded kitty." Jolee pointed back to the elevator. "Get going."  
"What?" said Juhani in shock. "My wounds are not that bad! They will heal quickly after a short rest."  
"We're not going to take a short rest, we're going to head to the Lower Shadowlands. Now, get."  
"But – " Juhani looked at Patience in despair.  
Patience sighed. "Actually, Juhani, I would appreciate it if you went with them. They might need your help. I don't trust Chuundar, not at all."  
Juhani looked startled, then blushed slightly. "You – you want me to protect them? Of course. I won't fail you, Patience." She smiled, then ran after Carth and the others who were returning to the Wookiee city above.  
Jolee smiled after the Cathar, then turned to Bastila.  
Bastila glared at Jolee. "Not a chance. Don't even think of trying to get rid of me."  
Jolee coughed. "You know, you're pretty feisty for a Padawan."  
"Come, Patience, let's get going. We still have to find the Star Map and Freyyr." Bastila turned and walked out of the hut.  
"Is she always like that?"  
"She's being nice to you," said Patience dryly. "She respects her elders."


	25. Sea and Sky

"Well, that was easy," grinned Patience as they watched the Wookiee stride away. "With the sacred blade, he can become Chieftain again!" She smiled at Jolee. "That was a great idea!"  
Jolee chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't have been able to beat that giant bug myself, so I guess the credit should go to you." He shook his head, as if laughing at some private joke. "Okay, the Star Map thing is just over here somewhere. I will warn you, it's not going to be as easy. The damned thing has some kind of security on it."  
"Oh, I'm sure we'll figure it out. Come on, Bastila!" Patience excitedly ran down the path that Jolee had indicated.  
"Oh, Patience, wait! I swear, she's so bubble-headed," grumbled Bastila, and started after her.  
Jolee took her arm. "Mind if we have a quick talk, Jedi Princess?"  
Bastila looked up at him in surprise. "What, now?"  
"Yes," said Jolee grimly. "Now. She won't come to any harm without you watching her for a few minutes."  
"You don't know her very well, if you really believe that," Bastila laughed.  
"I know her better than you think," said Jolee calmly. "Or at least, I know what she used to be."  
Bastila straightened herself. "You – you know her?"  
Jolee nodded. "I left the Jedi Order after the war with Exar Kun, for reasons I won't get into. I've been living on this planet for a long time."  
"So… you were here… before."  
"I was here when two giddy little nutjobs came down here with a crazy story about Star Maps and saving the galaxy, yes. I didn't know what was going to happen after they left. I thought they were telling the truth when they said they had asked the Wookiees for permission to come down here. They sure didn't look like bloodstained murderers, or Sith Lords, for that matter."  
"Malak? Giddy?"  
"He spent half an hour trying to teach one of the little primates to walk on its hands. If that isn't giddy, I don't know what is. The Star Map here is protected by a weird holocron, like nothing I've ever seen before. It refuses to talk to people it can't identify. Somehow, Revan and Malak got it to work the first time they were here."  
Bastila looked around nervously. "Well, hopefully, she'll be able to activate it again."  
"What's the point of this? What does the Jedi Council want with the Star Maps?" demanded Jolee. "They aren't the smartest people in the galaxy. They weren't back when I was in the Order, and it doesn't look like they've gotten any better."  
Bastila glared at him. "We need to know what Revan and Malak did, so that we can undo it. We can't just charge blindly into space after his invincible army. Where is Malak's army coming from? Where did they get all those ships, and the weapons? What did they find in the Unknown Regions? We need answers, and this is the only way to get them."  
"You'd be better off trying to figure out the right questions to ask," muttered Jolee. "Come on, let's catch up to her before she breaks something, or worse."  
They followed the path, and found Patience eagerly talking to a large geometric holocron, rotating slowly in midair on an elevated dais.  
"So, you have a self-repair and learning program. That's amazing," exclaimed Patience. "Tell me some more about the Infinite Empire!"  
"Forty-four percent match," droned the holocron, and slowly scanned her again while it started talking in a strange language.  
"Do you think I could open one of these consoles and take some notes? Oh, hi, Bastila! Did you know that the wroshyr trees don't actually come from Kashyyk? They were planted here. Ow!" Patience jumped and pulled her hand away from the self-defense mechanism of the holocron's control unit. "I was just looking."  
"Forty-six percent match. New organisms detected." The holocron scanned Jolee and Bastila. "Zero percent match. Access denied."  
"What are you doing?" asked Bastila curiously.  
"It won't let me get to the Star Map data. It will answer all my other questions, though. The match percentage keeps changing, and it keeps looping back to needing to verify my identity. Its programming is just incredible. I wish there was some way to take a copy with us."  
"Sixty-three percent match. Scanning."  
Patience grinned, and checked her pocket. "Maybe I could – wait. Oh, no." She took off her jacket, and turned it upside down and inside out. "No! No, no, dammit!"  
"What?" Bastila walked up to her. "What's wrong?"  
"Do you have the datapad? I can't find it," said Patience worriedly.  
"Fifty-one percent match."  
"You, shut up," snarled Patience. "Bastila, where could it be? I thought I had it!" She checked her pockets again.  
"Sixty-seven percent match."  
"I don't – what did that benighted machine just say?"  
"Who cares? Bastila, check your pockets! And your bag. If we don't have it, that means we're going to have to walk all the way back to the ship, and then back here again!"  
"Sixty-eight percent match."  
Bastila looked at the holocron in confusion. "What is it measuring?"  
"Bastila!" Patience yelled. "Are you listening to me?"  
"Seventy-two percent match."  
Bastila quickly checked her pockets for the precious pad.  
"It's not there! Dammit! How could we have forgotten it?" Patience raged.  
"Seventy-seven percent match."  
Jolee looked curiously at the holocron. "I really hate to sound like that little green freak, but, that's interesting."  
"Seriously, shut up! I can't believe this. We have to walk all the way back?" Patience took a deep breath, trying to control her temper, then sighed miserably. "This sucks."  
"Seventy-three percent match."  
She glared at the holocron. "There's no point in talking to you, we can't get the data anyway."  
"At last. My search is over. I was beginning to fear that someone else had already killed you, and deprived me of the pleasure."  
Three Dark Jedi emerged from the path behind them. Their leader wore black robes over the armor of a Sith Marauder, and he looked vaguely familiar to Patience.  
"You may have defeated the pathetic bounty hunter that my Master sent after you, but you are no match for me," he sneered. "I have studied at the foot of the Dark Lord himself!"  
"You're Malak's apprentice," Bastila gasped. "Darth Bandon!"  
"Really? I can't say I'm impressed," said Patience calmly. "After all, Malak never beat Revan. How good can his student be?"  
"Insolence! Your words mean nothing to me," hissed Darth Bandon. He stepped forward, menacingly, and met Bastila's eyes. "Unless you wish to beg for your miserable lives."  
"Wait! I remember you now," said Patience brightly. "You're the jerk that killed Trask, back on the Endar Spire!"  
Bandon glared balefully at her. "You pathetic worm. Very well, I will try to make this both quick and painful. Try to take Shan alive. The others are meaningless." The Dark Jedi drew their lightsabers, and charged.  
Patience jumped, using the broad tree trunks to launch herself over their heads, and landed behind their attackers. Unlike the other Dark Jedi that they had faced, these were not half-trained students sent out to prove themselves or die. She engaged one of Bandon's sidekicks, and was surprised to find that they were skilled with their lightsabers, and fairly powerful in the Force. She heard Bastila cry out, and quickly blocked the Dark Jedi's attack, then raced over to defend Bastila while her attacker was off-balance.  
Bandon was viciously attacking Bastila, and had just broken down her guard. Patience got between them just in time, blocking his furious swings and keeping him away from Bastila.  
"My Force attacks don't seem to work on him," gasped Bastila as she sagged down, cradling her wounded arm.  
Bandon smiled. "It's a special talent of mine, Shan."  
Behind them, Jolee cut down one of the Dark Jedi, and fought his way back to stand with Patience and Bastila.  
"What now, Shan? You're not good enough to take me down with your pathetic combat skills." Bandon's smile widened. The blast of a heavy blaster slammed into his back, and Bandon staggered. "What?" A grenade exploded, knocking him from his feet and throwing his companion into the underbrush.  
"HK!" exclaimed Patience joyfully. "What are you doing here?"  
Bandon whirled around and stared at the rust-colored droid emerging from the path. "Wait, you? Then – " he turned and looked at Patience, who had just engaged the other Dark Jedi. "It can't be!"  
HK made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, and shot Darth Bandon again. The supercharged blast shattered his shields, and Bandon went flying. Before he could get up, HK had switched to a sniper rifle, and fired a high-explosive round that slammed into Bandon's head, right between his eyes.  
With a horrible cry, Malak's apprentice crumbled to the forest floor, and Patience swiftly dealt with the remaining Dark Jedi.  
"Ninety-eight percent match. Identify verified. Please select data for download."  
Patience stopped, and stared at the holocron. "What? What do you mean I match? Match what?"  
"Combat prowess and psycho-kinematic pathing correspond to previously accepted data."  
"Greeting: Hello, Master. Statement: The impertinent meatbag indicated that you would require this datapad." HK handed over the datapad with all the Star Map data that they had already collected.  
"Oh, thank you, HK!" Patience connected the datapad to the holocron, and started downloading the newest Star Map.  
"Why didn't Carth just come himself?" asked Bastila curiously as Jolee healed her wounds.  
"Statement: Remaining crewmembers are currently involved in dealing with the current situation. Clarification: There is violence involved."  
Patience sighed. "At least it wasn't my fault, this time."

Order was finally restored on Kashyyk. Freyyr was Chieftain again, and Zaalbar was again the heir. Chuundar and his fellow slavers were all dead, and Czerka driven from the planet. The money that they had recovered from the Czerka office would go towards rescuing the Wookiees that had been sold off-world, and returning them to their home.  
"That was a really good idea, Canderous," smiled Patience. "I didn't expect it from you."  
"I don't like slavery," said Canderous bitterly. "It's a crutch, and has no real place in Mando'ade."  
"Oh." She wondered if she should ask, but the Mandalorian didn't look like he wanted to talk. They continued walking back to the Ebon Hawk. She laid her hand on his arm, and walked with him in companionable silence.  
"Most of the time, you don't remind me of her, but then you go and do little things like that," he said in Mandalorian, his voice hoarse as if he were holding back rage, or possibly tears. "We grew up together. Everyone assumed we would get married, but we never said the words. When I was ready, she wasn't. When she was ready, I wasn't there. I was off fighting. And then Ordo was taken by the Republic forces, and everyone was scattered. I searched everywhere," he said, choking back a sob. "I scoured the galaxy looking for her, and found her in a slave market. I couldn't save her. I watched her being taken away to a Hutt's ship, and thought about what it really meant to be a slave, for the first time in my life." Canderous shook off the memory. "Since then, I decided I won't have anything to do with the slave trade. I couldn't save her, but I could save others."  
"Is that why you never have any money?" asked Patience curiously. This was a new side of Canderous, and it fascinated her.  
He smiled wryly. "Yeah. I have agents buying any Ordos, or any other Mandalorians they can find."  
"Where do they go? Ordo is still occupied."  
Canderous grinned. "I can't tell you all my secrets, can I?" He looked down at her. "Well, not yet, anyway. I'll show you someday. Maybe when all this is over, and you can ditch Republic boy for a bit. I don't think he'd be able to keep the secret."  
Patience smiled. "I'd like that! Oh, here," she handed him the chit that she had taken from Darth Bandon's body. "Take it," she urged. "It's from Malak's apprentice, so it's like Malak is paying you back."  
"Oh, you can't do that," he protested. "Shouldn't that go to the common fund?"  
"I'll just spend it all on droid parts anyway. Take it," she smiled. "Anyway, we're your clan now, aren't we?"  
Canderous stared at her, then swore under his breath, and pulled her into his arms for a breathtaking kiss. She was shocked, but before she could stop herself, she had put her hands around his neck, and was pressing her body against his hard, muscular chest, her lips passionately against his.  
Patience and Canderous had been trailing behind everyone else. Juhani was closest, and it was a moment before she noticed what they were doing, and at first was too shocked to say anything.  
"Maybe you should stop that before Carth sees you," whispered Juhani urgently. "Or Bastila."  
Canderous reluctantly let her go, and Patience pulled away, blushing furiously.  
"I feel like I should say something, but my brain keeps singing Mandalorian love songs," muttered Patience.  
Canderous laughed, trying to pretend he wasn't shaken from the intensity of her embrace. "Anything good?"  
"I'm just going to go over here," Patience walked away from Canderous, and tried to concentrate on the real world, and not the crazy fantasy world where she reunited the Mandalorian clans, destroyed the Sith, and forged a new Mandalorian empire with Canderous at her side. "I probably shouldn't ever tell him about that," she said to herself.  
"Tell who about what?" Bastila asked curiously. She had paused on the walkway so that she could talk to Patience.  
"Bastila, am I really that interesting?" Patience blurted out. "I don't get it!"  
Bastila laughed, and gave her a friendly hug. "If you knew, you wouldn't be nearly as interesting." She patted Patience playfully on the head. "Just keep being yourself."  
Patience sighed. "But which one?" she whispered under her breath. She sighed, and walked with Bastila to the spaceport.  
Carth was already there, laughing at the other ships as the beaten Czerka employees were being ejected from the planet. "There you are," Carth grinned, and put one arm around Patience and one around Bastila. "Look at them go," he laughed.  
"You shouldn't mock them," said Bastila sternly. "Where is Jolee?"  
"He's on the ship, helping Mission clean the galley so they can cook a homecoming feast for Zaalbar."  
"Oh, that's so nice!" smiled Patience. "I'd go help, but – "  
"Please stay away from the kitchen," said Bastila, holding her hand to her head, as the mere thought of Patience running around in the galley gave her a headache.  
Patience laughed, and looked around the spaceport. "Oh, there are those Mandalorians we ran into. The ones who were hunting the Wookiees. Dar'ijaa! Honorless dogs," she suddenly snarled.  
One of them heard her, and turned. The man staggered back as if struck. "It is you! You're alive! Murdering traitor!"  
Patience stared at him in surprise, then realized that he was looking behind her.  
"Jagi?" Canderous walked up to the stranger. "It is you."  
"You know this guy, Canderous?" Patience looked from one to the other. They didn't look pleased to see each other.  
"He was a warrior under my command. I had no idea – "  
"You thought I was dead, didn't you?" demanded Jagi. "You thought we were all dead," he said bitterly. "You sent us to die while you directed your real forces – your precious Ordos – to attack elsewhere. You sacrificed us over the skies of Althir for your glory!"  
"That's not what happened," Canderous protested.  
"No? You mean you didn't change the plan in the middle of the battle so that you could have the honor of being the first to engage the enemy commander?"  
Patience looked up at Canderous. "Sometimes, you have to make hard choices in war," she said calmly. She could see the truth in Canderous' face. He hadn't meant to abandon his men.  
"I was reacting to the field of battle," Canderous explained. "I saw an opening, and I took it. If I hadn't, the battle – "  
"The battle would have been won anyway," snarled Jagi. "Your excuses are meaningless, Canderous. I tire of this. I have spent years hunting you. Even though the clans were banished and broken, I still clung to the hope of finding you so that I could have my vengeance!"  
"What are you planning to do?" Patience asked quickly.  
"I challenge you, Canderous Ordo, to face me on the field of honor. Fight the battle that you fled that day. Face the spirits of the warriors that you abandoned to their deaths, or be cast out from the clans for all eternity. Sword and spirit shall be dar'Manda if you refuse this challenge."  
Canderous gasped. "You're not serious."  
"I am," said Jagi firmly. "I have spread the word of this challenge to every clan that I could find. Since Althir is not available, I shall wait for you in the Dune Seas of Tatooine." He turned his back on Canderous, and walked away.  
"Sword and spirit? What is he going on about?" asked Bastila.  
"If Canderous doesn't show up, he won't be considered a Mandalorian anymore," Patience explained. "Guess that means we're going to Tatooine next."  
"You don't have to do that," said Canderous humbly.  
Patience looked at him, and didn't bother to answer.  
"Thank you." Canderous followed her onto the ship.  
"Just don't kiss me again," she whispered.  
Canderous smiled and Patience ran off to go find Mission and Jolee. Canderous sat down at the table and tried to think about what he would do when he met Jagi for their duel, but all he could think of was an old Mandalorian love song about a toy soldier who fell in love with a beautiful doll.

The Ebon Hawk left Kashyyk, and Carth set a course heading back to Tatooine. "So, are you going to tell us what happened with Jagi?" asked Carth as he sat at the table. Patience handed him a beer and a tray of food.  
Canderous sighed. "Honor. I think I did the right thing, he doesn't agree with me."  
"Perhaps you could be a little more vague?" suggested Bastila acidly. "Or perhaps, you don't trust us with your Mandalorian secrets?"  
"Don't be like that," said Canderous quietly. "That's really all there is to it. I was in command, and I made a change in the battle plan. Some people died, but the battle was won."  
"And naturally, the fool thinks you did it on purpose," said Jolee. "Ah well, you can explain it to him and we can get back to doing whatever it is we're supposed to be doing."  
"Yeah, we have to go to Manaan after we get done with our little side quest," said Patience. "That'll be fun. Think they'll let us swim in the kolto?" Patience set down her cider and looked around. "Do you hear that?"  
"No, and we won't hear it for the next five seconds," muttered Carth, and ran back to the bridge.  
Jolee looked at him strangely, then the ship dropped abruptly out of hyperspace. "What the hell is that?" He looked at Patience, trying not to stare.  
"Sith Interdictor!" shouted Carth. "We're caught in their tractor beam. They must have been waiting for us."  
"Waiting for us?" exclaimed Bastila. "But how?"  
"It's the Leviathan," said Carth grimly. "Karath's ship." He leaned back and stared at the now useless controls. "There's nothing we can do to escape."  
The Ebon Hawk slowly started being drawn backwards, to the patiently waiting Sith vessel.  
"I thought the Leviathan was Malak's ship," said Bastila.  
"It is, but Karath runs it."  
Canderous looked at Carth. "Didn't Saul Karath used to be a Republic officer?"  
"He was." Carth looked down. "He taught me everything I know about being a soldier. He was my best friend, and my mentor, until he betrayed us all and proved his loyalty to the Sith by bombing Telos."  
"Well, this is your chance for revenge," grinned Canderous.  
"Carth." Patience looked at him, saw the pain in his eyes. "Don't do anything you'll regret."  
"Don't worry, I won't do anything stupid," said Carth with a calm that he didn't feel. "I won't throw our lives away, or risk the success of our mission. But you can't ask me to just let him go. You can't."  
"I understand," said Patience softly.  
"We have bigger problems, kids. We're almost at the Leviathan now," said Jolee. "What are we going to do?"  
"It is going to be somewhat difficult to make a plan," said Bastila, "but we must do something."  
"Karath's no fool, and he won't make the mistake of underestimating us. He knows me too well."  
"But does he know how many of us there are on board?" said Patience suddenly. "Depending on when he got that information, his numbers would be off by one," she explained, as she looked at Jolee. "We could hide someone on the Ebon Hawk, and they could come and rescue us later."  
"You think fast," said Jolee approvingly.  
"I'm fairly certain that Karath will know about Carth and me," said Bastila, "and you're almost certainly on their list now, if you weren't before. One of the others will have to do the rescuing, as we three will most likely be the guests of honor."  
Patience looked at Juhani. "Your camouflage ability has come in handy before. That, and the fact that you're a Jedi, offers the best chance of success."  
The Cathar blushed slightly, and pulled herself up proudly. "You speak the truth. I am honored that you would trust me with your safety. I will not fail you, Patience."  
The ship shuddered, and there was a loud scraping sound on the hull.  
"They're dragging us into the docking bridge," Carth explained the noise. "Juhani, you'd better get ready."  
"May the Force be with you, Juhani." Patience gave her a quick hug, then went to the loading ramp to wait for the intruders.


	26. Resurrection

"One move, one wave of a hand, and we kill everyone in your crew," snarled the guard.  
"We're going, we're going," said Patience. "See? Everybody's going peacefully."  
"Shut up! Don't try to use your Jedi mind tricks on me." The guards began to lead Bastila and Carth down a hallway, separate from the others.  
"Wait," commanded the leader of the guards. "Count them, make sure we got everyone. Captain," he sneered, "Onasi, Shan, the girl and the Wookie, the Mandalorian, two droids, and a Jedi." He looked at Jolee's robes, and Jolee frowned at him. The guard turned to Patience. "Then you must be the other one. The dangerous one. Take her with Shan and Onasi."  
They dragged Patience, Carth, and Bastila away, and brought them to an interrogation room. Technicians had just finished setting up three force cages. They were stripped of their gear and armor, and locked in the cages.  
"Be strong," said Bastila softly.  
The door to the interrogation room opened, and a tall Human male, greying before his time, entered the room. "Carth. It has been a long time since we last spoke, has it not? The recent months have not been kind to you. I barely recognized you when you were brought onboard." His accent was pure Corellian, upper class and disdainful.  
"But I recognized you," said Carth, his voice tight and angry. "Saul. Your face is the same as the one I see every night in my dreams, where I swear to kill you for what you did to my homeworld. To my wife."  
Karath laughed. "You learned nothing from your time serving with me, then. As a soldier, you should understand that casualties are unavoidable in times of war. As a man, you should understand that sometimes you must destroy what you love."  
"What?" Carth stared at him. "What are you talking about, Saul? You weren't fighting a war, you bombed a civilian planet into oblivion with no warning or provocation. What love? What would someone like you know about love?"  
"I always wondered what it would be like to be as blind as you, Carth. To see nothing more than what you expect to see everywhere you look." Karath sighed. "I wanted this moment to be poignant. I thought I would enjoy seeing you suffer. But you just irritate me, Carth. You always did. You're just in the way, as usual."  
"What do you mean?" There was an odd feeling in his chest, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what happened next.  
"I did ask her to come with me, before we started the bombardment. But it was the same excuse as always. She was married, and had to stay for you. She really believed that you would make it in time to save her, no matter what."  
"You liar." Carth said the words quietly. He didn't believe it. "It's not enough that you killed her, you're going to try and destroy her memory, too? What is wrong with you, Saul? You hate me that much?"  
"You will never understand how much I hate you, Carth. Not until you understand the hell that I went through for years fearing that you would figure it out, only to realize that you were a blind, complacent fool." Karath's voice shook with anger, and he pulled a chain from beneath his uniform. A small diamond ring dangled from it. "Did you ever look for it, Carth? Ever?"  
The blow was so stunning Carth couldn't react. "That – I – it can't be." The engagement ring that he had given to Morgana, lost just after Dustil was born. They hadn't been able to afford to replace it, and she had laughed off the loss.  
"It is," Karath raged. "I took it from her years ago, and she knew I wore it around you. We both waited. Years, Carth! We spent years trembling in fear, waiting for you to say something. But you never knew. You never cared."  
"That's not true!"  
"By the Celestials, will you please shut up?" Karath waved his hand in dismissal, and tucked the ring away again. "I loathe you, but you're just not important now. As always, you are an adjunct to the real issue." Karath took a deep breath, trying to regain his calm. "Cling to your dreams and your hopes of revenge if you must, but spare me your posturing and your empty threats. I've heard it all before." He looked at Bastila and Patience, and smiled, in a way that clearly reflected the twisted darkness of his soul. "Lord Malak is far more interested in your Jedi companions. He has great plans for them."  
"You filthy, murdering liar!"  
He looked at Carth, and pressed a button on the console, sending waves of agonizing pain through Carth. "Be silent."  
Carth dropped to the floor of the cage, gasping for breath.  
"Stop it!" cried Patience.  
"We will never serve Malak, or the Dark Side," said Bastila serenely. "The Sith will be destroyed, Admiral Karath. As will you."  
Karath shook his head, and laughed.  
"It is not too late to turn away from this path," Bastila urged.  
"Your words are brave, but meaningless," laughed Karath. "Did you really think that would work? You're as blind as your friend Carth. It is much more likely that you will, in fact, serve the Dark Side. The lure is strong, Bastila, and it offers much to someone like you." He glanced at Patience again. "Or so I've been told. I wonder – is your companion as," he paused, groping for the right word, "as devoted to the Light, as you seem to be?" He looked at Patience, and smiled strangely at her.  
Patience looked back at him. "Oh, wait, were you expecting me to answer you, or something? I'm sorry, I didn't realize that long-winded display of incompetence was supposed to be for my benefit. No, thanks, I'm not interested in betraying my friends and companions. Sorry for wasting your time!" Patience smiled at him, in her most friendly and innocent way.  
"You're defiant," Karath smiled. "I'm sure Lord Malak will find your loyalty most amusing. I wonder if Lord Malak would reward me if I just killed you for once and for all," Karath mused, "but considering all the trouble you have caused perhaps he would like to question you himself. Yes, given the history between the two of you, I'm certain that he would like to speak to you. In person."  
"History?" Patience cocked her head in confusion. "What are you talking about?"  
Karath looked at her in disbelief, then at Carth and Bastila. "Oh, but – you mean – this can't be true, can it?" He stifled a laugh. "Oh, but it is. This is magnificent!" He looked at Patience. "You really don't know what's going on here, do you? You know, that explains so very much," Karath laughed. "Well, in that case, I won't be the one to deprive Lord Malak of the pleasure."  
"You're insane, Saul." Carth stared at his former mentor in despair. "You're completely insane." He looked at Bastila, but she stared straight ahead, her lips set.  
Patience looked at her companions. Bastila's face was unreadable, and Carth was just as confused as she was. There was nothing from the little voice inside her head, either. She felt very strange, and very alone.  
"I suppose that when Lord Malak gets here, he will want to torture you for information, or perhaps merely for his own pleasure. However, Lord Malak is currently in another sector. I suppose," Karath smiled slowly, "I will have to fill in for him until then." He touched the console, and all three cages filled with waves of painful energy.  
Shocked by the unexpected pain, Patience screamed, as did Carth and Bastila. The chorus of agonized shrieks made Karath smile.  
"Eventually," said Karath, "you will tell us everything we want to know. But for the moment," he activated the torture field again, "I don't have any questions." He watched them writhe, drinking in the sight of their pain. "Enough. I wouldn't want anyone to pass out before I have a chance to ask a few questions. Let me see," mused Karath. "I'm sure that Lord Malak would appreciate any scrap of information that I could wring from you."  
"Don't waste your breath, Saul. We won't tell you anything!" Carth snarled.  
"I'm sure you won't," Karath smiled, stressing the word 'you.' "However," he turned back to Patience, "I'm sure we both know that your friend's loyalties in the past have proven to be somewhat… flexible."  
"You know, if I had any idea what the hell you were talking about, I would be more upset," said Patience calmly. "But go ahead, have your fun. I'm not going to tell you anything. I'm loyal to Carth and my crew."  
Karath smiled strangely at her. "Then let us put that loyalty to the test. Let us see what kind of loyalty Carth inspires in you." He smiled cruelly at Carth, then turned back to Patience. "Torturing you would be worse than useless. Your will is too strong to be broken that way. However," he smiled again, and Patience stared at him with a sick fascination, "if I recall correctly, you have something of a weakness when it comes to the suffering of those close to you."  
Patience gasped in horror. "No!"  
"I am going to begin the interrogation now," said Karath. "Every time you fail to answer my question, or lie to me, Carth will suffer."  
Patience hid her face in her hands, trying to think, trying to keep herself strong.  
"My pain is meaningless, Patience," shouted Carth. "Don't let it influence you. Tell him nothing!"  
"You amuse me, Carth, but I tire of these games. I want answers," said Karath firmly. "You will give them to me, or you will suffer. Tell me, where is the Jedi Academy? Which planet?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about," Patience snapped. "Do I look like a Jedi to you?"  
"You mock me," snarled Karath. "This is the price of your resistance." He touched the console, and Carth arched back in agony from the rippling fields of pain, but didn't cry out. "Ah, you were ready that time."  
Patience shrank away from Karath's searching gaze.  
"This first question," smiled Karath, "was merely a test. To see how you would react. Obviously, Lord Malak knew of the Academy on Dantooine. It has already been destroyed, as will be all who stand against the power of the Sith."  
Bastila gasped. "No! You lie!"  
There was a slightly insane tinge to Karath's laugher. "Lie? Is that not the way of the Jedi? Dantooine is an empty crater now, a graveyard filled with smoking ruins and corpses. The charred remains of your former Masters. The scorched bodies of your fellow students."  
Patience sensed the truth in his words. Many had escaped, but many more had been slain, or worse. "Monster! How dare you!" she raged. "You will pay for this, Karath! You and all the Sith!"  
"Ah," said Karath mildly. "It seems the shell is rather thin."  
"What?" said Patience in confusion, and her mind flashed a memory at her, of the holocron droning numbers, comparing her to a previous identity.  
"Still, in the end, it is nothing more than an empty threat. We Sith prefer to let our actions speak for us," Karath smiled. "That would be why we are winning this war. Tell me of your mission," he said suddenly. "What did the Jedi have planned for you? How were they planning to stop Lord Malak and our Sith armada?"  
Patience glared at him. "I'm not going to betray the Jedi. I'm not going to help you, or the Sith."  
"Let me remind you what happens when you resist me," said Karath grimly.  
Carth screamed in pain as Karath increased the intensity of the torture field.  
"No!" Patience cried. "Stop it, stop – I can't – " she put her hands to her head, and sank to her knees, trying to hold back the crippling sensation in her mind. She felt herself being lost in memories again, but couldn't tell if the memories were her own, or Lord Revan's.  
She was cowering in a room, screaming in pain. On a starship, somewhere. A Republic ship. Someone entered the room, trying to soothe her. "They're hurting him," she sobbed wildly. "They're hurting him, and I can't make them stop! I can't take it, I can't take any more of the pain!"  
Soothing, strong hands, stroking her hair. A body, lean and strong, yet unmistakably feminine, cradling her, holding her close. Soft words. Gentle lips, kissing the pain away. A trusted friend. A beloved companion. Sacrificed at the end, for a greater victory.  
It had been the only way. Or had it?  
She came back to herself, sobbing in anguish. "Stop!"  
Karath looked at her curiously. "You can spare him – and yourself – further pain. Simply answer my question. On what mission did the Jedi Council send you?"  
"You sick, evil, twisted bastard!" Patience sobbed.  
"I think you're missing the point," smiled Karath. He touched the console again, and Carth's screams echoed through the room. Karath watched Carth, a smile flickering around the edges of his lips. "I'm surprised he hasn't passed out yet. Rarely have I seen someone withstand such punishment."  
Patience wondered wildly if he realized what was really happening. That she was suffering part of Carth's pain with him. That some strange part of her soul was feeding on that pain, and growing stronger second by second, and that it was all she could do to keep herself in check.  
"I suppose I am wasting my time here," said Karath, and turned off the torture field. Carth fell to the floor of his cage, moaning. "I will leave you now, and let Lord Malak complete the questioning." Karath's eyes were shining oddly. "When he arrives, you will realize why my techniques are considered merciful among the Sith." Karath smiled again, a repulsive and sickening smile. "But first, let me give you one more taste of the horrors you will suffer when Lord Malak arrives."  
All three fields activated again, and they all screamed, caught off guard by the sudden waves of pain. Patience wondered why it didn't hurt as much when she suffered; it was only unbearable when she was trying to protect someone else. It didn't really make any sense, she said to herself. But then, nothing did. The Jedi Code, the Sith Code. They didn't make any sense. Why couldn't peace coexist with passion? Why couldn't strength be tempered with mercy? Wouldn't true balance require both lows and highs, dark and light? Without chaos, how could order have any meaning? How would harmony exist if there was only one note in the song?  
The field stopped, and Patience dropped to the floor like a ragdoll. Bastila sank to her knees, panting, and Carth lay on the floor, shuddering in pain.  
Karath smiled, and laughed a repulsive little laugh, then nodded to the guards, and left the room.  
The interrogators activated the field in Patience's cell again. She fought back a scream, and wondered why they were focusing on her. Am I really that interesting, she asked herself. Apparently, she was. But then, why didn't anyone remember her? It was as if she hadn't existed before she met Carth and Bastila. But she had, hadn't she? She must have. She had a service record, and a name.  
"There are no recognizable world markers in your name."  
Patience.  
The pain stopped, and she realized she was on her hands and knees on the floor of the force cage. The interrogators were watching her curiously. Tears were running down Carth's face, sympathy for her suffering. Bastila was kneeling on the floor of her cage, whispering the Jedi Code over and over again.  
They activated all three cages again, shocking a scream from Carth and Patience, but Bastila's meditation gave her the strength to stay silent.  
Patience wondered how much longer this would go on, and how long it would take the damage to heal. She remembered floating in a kolto tank for what must have been weeks. Her skull cracked. Internal organs crushed. Reconstructive regrowth. Heart, stomach, ovaries, liver, lungs. Rebuilt from her own cells under the influence of the healing kolto. The only thing undamaged had been her brain. And yet, that was the only part that wasn't working correctly. But this would just be nerve damage. No actual physical damage. No bleeding. In order for there to be bleeding, they would have to touch her.  
She looked at the interrogators, standing behind their consoles. They wouldn't dare to touch her.  
"This wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have the sneaking suspicion that Karath is somewhere watching us and jerking off," Patience rasped, her voice rough with pain and screams.  
Carth laughed in surprise, and the interrogators activated all three of the fields.  
The pain continued.  
She had another odd flash of memory. Herself, with a group of other children, kneeling in a circle, reciting strangely rhythmic words. "Education and armor. Self-defense, our tribe. Our language, our leader – all help us survive." First in a form of Basic that she barely remembered, then in another language that she recognized as Mandalorian, then again in a strangely sibilant language that she couldn't name. She wouldn't let herself say the name. She looked up at the sky, and saw the rings surrounding the planet, and the multitude of moons. It was snowing outside. There was always snow here. Where was here?  
She came to herself again, gasping in agony.  
"Don't try to move yet," said Bastila gently. "The guards continued to torture you, even after you had passed out. Give your body time to recover."  
"They tortured all of us, but you got the worst of it, by far." Carth watched Patience stagger to her feet. "You were right. Saul was watching the entire time. He was enjoying it."  
"It is sickening, yes," said Bastila softly. "This is the path that he has chosen, Carth. He has embraced the Dark Side, and followed it to the depths of evil. He is a perverted shadow of his former self. I fear," she said sadly, "that he is forever lost."  
"Don't you ever get tired of being so preachy?" grinned Patience. "No one is beyond hope of redemption, Bastila."  
Bastila smiled at her, and Patience could see her silent admiration of her bravery and her strength. "Yes, I suppose you are correct. It is just that sometimes," said Bastila softly, "it is easy to lose sight of that hope in the face of such unbridled cruelty." Bastila sighed.  
"It's Dantooine, isn't it? That's why you're so unhappy." Patience wished she could touch her, hold her hand.  
Bastila nodded. "Jedi are taught to restrain our emotions," she said quietly. "I sometimes wonder if I even still know how to cry. Is there no end to the killing?"  
"I'm sure some of them escaped, Bastila," Patience tried to reassure her.  
"I would give anything to believe that he had been lying," Bastila said softly, her voice trembling slightly. "But even as he spoke the words, I knew that they were true. How did I not feel it? How did he hide it from us?"  
"I think," said Patience slowly, "we were on Korriban at the time."  
"Indeed," said Bastila sadly. "I fear that the Dark Side is growing stronger in this sector of the galaxy. It throws shadows that distract and deceive, and that our vision cannot pierce. Worse, we have lost our one refuge in this sector."  
"None of which will matter if we don't get out of this prison before Saul gets back," Carth pointed out.  
"Where do you think he is now?" asked Patience. "His quarters?"  
"One of the last interrogators to leave mentioned that Lord Malak was on his way. Saul is probably on the bridge, getting ready to kiss the feet of his Sith Lord." Carth grinned. "At least he won't have anything interesting to report from our interrogation."  
Patience blushed as she realized that Carth and Bastila were both looking at her, admiringly. "What?"  
"You didn't say anything," said Bastila, her voice soft and sweet. "You resisted everything that they did to you. The Force chose well when it laid the fate of the galaxy in your hands."  
My love.  
Patience blinked in surprise, blushing madly. Had Bastila actually said that? Had she really heard it, or only felt it?  
"I… I have a confession to make," said Carth quietly, completely oblivious to Patience's confusion and embarrassment. "There was a moment… just a moment… when I was hoping that you would tell him what he wanted to know, just to make the pain stop."  
"Oh, Carth," Patience looked at him sadly. "I am so sorry! Watching you suffer was horrible! It was tearing me apart."  
"I knew you wouldn't. I knew you wouldn't betray us, or the mission. I knew you would never do anything intentionally to hurt me."  
Patience winced, but let him continue.  
"I also know that I'm not as strong as you. I don't know what I would have done in your position. I'm very glad it didn't come to that," said Carth softly. "I might have cracked."  
"Oh, Carth…."  
"Did you feel that?" said Bastila suddenly, and Patience knew what she was talking about. "A disturbance in the Force."  
It was more than a disturbance. It was a maelstrom.  
Bastila looked despairingly around the room. "Lord Malak is coming."  
Patience smiled, cheerful and confident. "Don't worry. Juhani will get us out of here."  
"I hope so," said Carth uncertainly.  
"'You must have faith in the Force,'" quipped Patience, mimicking Master Vandar's accent perfectly.  
Bastila and Carth stared at her, then all three broke into nervous giggles, then a short bout of hysterical laughter, a natural reaction to the stress. Finally, they all calmed down.  
The door to the interrogation room opened, and Juhani stepped carefully into the room.  
"Juhani!"  
"Well done, Juhani," said Bastila warmly as the Cathar shut down the force cages.  
"You're just in time," said Carth gratefully.  
Patience bounded out of her cage and gave Juhani a warm hug.  
"Are all prisoners tortured in their underwear?" asked Juhani curiously.  
Patience laughed. "I'm sure our gear is around here somewhere."  
"If this design is still the same as other cruisers of its class, then there's a storage room just north of here," said Carth. "Have you freed everyone else, Juhani?"  
"No," she shook her head, "I felt that I should free you three first. The way back to the ship is clear."  
"We'll need to get to the bridge and release the hangar controls. That's the only way we'll be able to take off," Carth said quickly. "And we have to get out of here before Lord Malak arrives."  
"Get the rest of the crew back to the ship," said Patience. "We'll get our stuff and head to the bridge. Once we have the tractor beam turned off and the doors open, we'll meet you back at the ship."  
"All right," said Juhani. She gave Patience another hug, then ran back out to the other section of holding cells.  
"Are we going to make a plan?" asked Patience as they ran to the storage room. "Or just go with the old standby of blasting anything that moves?"  
"I think that plan will work best, actually," smiled Bastila.  
"Yeah, everyone we meet on this ship will be an enemy. I don't think we need to lose any sleep over killing them." Carth opened the footlockers. "Here's our gear. Let's go." They quickly got their clothes and armor back on, and readied their weapons.  
They backtracked through the interrogation room and around the corridor to the bridge section, past the bodies of dead guards lying on the floor. "I guess Juhani already came this way," grinned Patience.  
"Up here," Carth led them in the direction of the bridge. "This ship is using the standard layout. That's a relief. That means I won't have any trouble finding anything."  
The communicator beeped. "Canderous here. We're all here, and we've reached the Ebon Hawk. It's under heavy guard, but," she could hear his smile, "we've got a plan. They won't know what hit them."  
Patience laughed. "We're at the main elevator. We'll move as fast as we can."  
"K'oyacyi, kal vod," Canderous said softly.  
She smiled at the communicator. "They don't have what it takes to get rid of me."  
He laughed. "I'll see you back at the ship. Canderous out."  
"Really going to have to learn Mandalorian someday," Carth muttered.  
Patience looked at him, still smiling from Canderous' farewell. "It was a command. 'Stay alive.'"  
"And the bit at the end?"  
"You're jealous!" she exclaimed. "That's so cute!"  
Carth rolled his eyes.  
"It means 'blade sister.' Or, 'blade brother,' depending who you say it to, of course. Someone you've fought with and trust to watch your back."  
"He didn't sound like he was talking to his sister," Carth muttered. "Let's get going."  
Bastila smiled gently, and they took the elevator to the command deck.  
Carth led them to the bridge. "Are you ready?"  
Patience readied her lightsabers, and nodded, as did Bastila.  
Carth overrode the security, and the doors flew open.  
Karath stood in the center of the bridge, flanked by two Dark Jedi. He clapped his hands. "Very resourceful. Of course, I knew that someone would come here once you started attacking the hangar where your ship was being held. Don't be so surprised that I'm ready for you."  
"Your time is up, Saul," Carth hissed.  
"Don't be a fool," Karath insisted. "I'm giving you and your companions a chance to surrender. Believe me, if we capture you again, you will not enjoy it. Might I remind you that Darth Malak is almost here? You might escape from me. You will not escape from him."  
"He speaks the truth," gasped Bastila. "I can sense him. So much power."  
"Throw down your weapons, and I will ask my Master to be merciful."  
"I've seen enough of Sith mercy," snarled Carth. "It's time to end this, Saul!"  
"Ah, well," sighed Karath. "I'm sure that Lord Malak would have preferred live prisoners, but corpses will have to do. Kill them!"  
Patience had ignored most of the conversation, and instead focused on watching the two Dark Jedi. She moved a split second before they did, leaping swiftly and landing right behind them. They quickly turned to face her, and Karath ran for the cover of a nearby control console.  
Bastila used the Force to immobilize the troopers on the bridge, and began cutting them down while Carth fired at the Admiral.  
"Come out and fight, Saul!"  
Patience concentrated on keeping the Dark Jedi busy while Carth and Bastila cleared out the rest of the bridge. One of them made a mistake, too eager to try to get to her, and died for it. Alone, the other was no match for her and she dispatched him just as she heard the last trooper fall.  
Karath tried to run for the door, and Carth shot him in the back. The traitorous Admiral collapsed and fell.  
Carth ran up to him. "It's time to finish this," he said grimly.  
"Carth! Don't – don't do anything you wouldn't want to tell your children about."  
Carth looked at her, and smiled just a little.  
"Carth," coughed Karath. "Come here." He spat up a little blood. "I must tell you something, Carth."  
Carth looked down at his old enemy, his nemesis. Karath was obviously dying. Carth knelt down, and Saul whispered something.  
"You didn't know, did you?" Karath laughed, coughing up more blood. "I think this is the best revenge I could ever have wished for, Carth. Knowing that you will remember my words every time you look at those you thought were your friends." Karath laughed again, choking on his blood, until the sound faded away.  
"By the Maker," Carth stood, staring down at the body of his old mentor. "He said – he's gone, it can't be true. Can it? No, no, no – it can't. It can't! Damn you, Saul! Damn you!"  
"What is it, Carth?" Patience ran up to him. "What did he say?" She tried to lay her hand on his arm, but he brushed her off, recoiling from her touch.  
"Bastila! It is true, isn’t it?" Carth glared at her, and Bastila looked away. "It is! And you knew! You and the whole damn Jedi Council! You knew!"  
"Knew what?" Patience asked, looking from Carth to Bastila, but they were both ignoring her.  
"You knew the whole damn time!"  
"Carth, it's not what you think," said Bastila softly. "It's more complicated than you can imagine. You will remember," she said slowly, "that I did warn you. A long time ago. I asked you to be kind."  
Carth drew back as if stung.  
"We had no other choice," Bastila continued. "Please, Carth, try to understand."  
"I don't," he said bitterly. "Make me. Make me understand, because this, this is madness."  
"At some point," Patience said cheerily, "one of you two will have to talk to me." She walked over to a console. "I'll see if I can get the hangar doors open while I wait."  
"She's right," said Bastila. "This isn't the time. Carth, please. This isn't the place. Malak is coming. We have to get out of here."  
"You really expect me to just let this go?"  
"Of course not," Bastila sighed. "Just, trust me. For a little bit longer. I'll explain everything once we're free of the Leviathan." She looked sadly at Patience. "To both of you."  
Patience shrugged, and continued working at the console. "There, the hangar doors are open. Let's go."  
Carth knelt by Karath's body, and pulled out the chain. He looked at the ring, then dropped it and turned away. "Go ahead and keep it, old dog. It meant more to you than it ever did to me."  
"Are you ready, Carth?" asked Bastila gently.  
"Just go."  
They ran back to the main elevator, and went to the hangar level.  
"Did it just get colder in here?" asked Carth uncertainly.  
"You feel it too, don't you?" said Bastila softly. "The presence of the Dark Lord."  
The blast door opened, and a tall man in skintight blood-red battle leathers walked up to them. His physique was amazing. Every step he took showed off his strength. His muscles rippled beneath his armor. The lower half of his jaw was covered with an ugly metallic prosthetic. He was bald, and his scalp was decorated with a series of blue tattoos. His aura glowed with the Dark Side.  
Patience gasped as she realized who he was.  
"Darth Malak," said Bastila bravely.  
Carth whipped up his blasters and fired. The man drew his lightsaber faster than anyone Patience had ever seen, and bounced the blasts away. He threw a wave of Force energy, and Carth went flying backwards.  
Malak laughed, his voice oddly distorted by the prosthetic jaw. "Surely, you weren't thinking of leaving so soon, Bastila. After all the effort I put into hunting down you and your companions? Did you really think I'd let you get away from me now?"  
Carth staggered back to his feet, and Malak looked scornfully at him.  
The Dark Lord finally seemed to notice Patience. His dark grey eyes burned into her. "Besides," he hissed, "I had to see for myself if it was true. Even now, I can hardly believe my eyes. Tell me," he demanded, "why did the Jedi spare you? What are you doing here? Is it vengeance you seek at this reunion?"  
"Reunion?" She stared at his eyes, trying to remember where she had seen them before. "What do you mean? What are you talking about?"  
"Come, come," he said impatiently. "Enough of this fooling. Surely, after all this time, you must have figured it out. You must feel something at your return, here, to this place."  
"No, I'm apparently really stupid. I don't feel – "  
No one would feel if you wiped out their entire past every time they did something you didn't like.  
"I really did think you were dead," Malak laughed. "It serves me right. I should have killed you face to face. I always meant to."  
I know that I will not be released before my work is done.  
"I wonder how long you would have stayed blind to the truth if it hadn't been for this. How long could the combined power of the Jedi Council have kept your true identity buried?"  
Why doesn't anyone recognize me?  
"You're still dyeing your hair, as well. Surely that is unnecessary?"  
Patience stared at him. "What?" I look too pretty. Too much like someone else.  
"Your hair," said Malak patiently. "Why do you persist in dyeing it that ridiculous color?"  
Who am I?  
Patience opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. Her mind was deliberately trying not to process the memories his words brought up. With a great effort of her will, she forced herself to stay calm, not to give in to the crippling fear inside her.  
She saw the sudden rush of memories, she saw herself removing the mask, felt herself staring at the Star Forge with her own eyes. Saw a curl of golden hair, damp with sweat, released from the restraint of the mask, saw herself brush it aside and felt herself smile, a wave of pride and triumph washing over her.  
The Jedi do not believe in killing their prisoners.  
Her memories rushed back even further, to a starship laden with luxuries and comforts, so unlike the Republic ships. She was running down a hall, ignoring the blood and the strangers, running to the command center, to a figure lying in a pool of blood on the deck, his blades still gripped in his hands. She screamed in anguish, threw herself on his body.  
"Father! Father! Oh, Father, wake up! Please!"  
A voice, shaking with fear and grief, spoke. "Forgive us, Most Holy and Revered One! We never meant this," the rebel sobbed. "Oh, forgive us! Forgive us! We tried to save him, but we failed! We only stood against him because he would have taken you away. The second he needed us, we were loyal! We were loyal! We fought to the death, Revered One!"  
She sobbed wildly over her father's body, but he lay still and quiet. She lifted her head, felt the tears running down her face, saw the blood staining her gown. She stared at the three groups before her. Rebels, who had belatedly returned to their wonted loyalties; those she could forgive. They were punished enough. The strangers who had saved them – ah, they had come too late! Her father had waited for them, and he had died because of them. She scorned them. They were weak and faithless, and she knew their measure now. She would never depend on them again.  
The third group – the Mandalorians – right and proper victims of her rage. "He trusted you!" she screamed at them. "He welcomed you as friends, and you turned on him! Attacked him when he was already under attack! Grave robbing jackals! Eaters of carrion!" She knew them too well, knew how deeply her insults would cut, knew how to sting their pride. Even then, even in her youth, she had known the Mandalorians too well.  
One of the Mandalorians, enraged beyond words and forgetting that he was already a prisoner, moved, dropped his hand to his side where a weapon should have been.  
She stood before anyone could react, screaming in her rage. "Coward! Dog! You dare!" She threw her fury at him, bending her will to cause him pain, drinking in his suffering. "I will make you pay for your insolence! I will make you all pay!" The Mandalorian shrieked in agony as the bolts of dark lightning rippled across his skin.  
The rebels knelt in submission, glorying in her powers, and regretted again that their child-goddess was to be taken from them. The strangers ran in fear, except for one, who walked slowly to her, and wrenched her arms up, breaking her concentration.  
"Are you quite done, child? You have no idea how dangerous it is to toy with powers beyond your control." The stranger's voice was calm and stern. The robes the stranger wore were plain, and yet, she exuded an aura of power and command.  
She looked up at the stranger, her disdain warring with a growing sense of admiration. "You are the one of those my Father was waiting for? The ones who are supposed to teach me to control my powers." The stranger towered over her, but then, she had always been small, so very small for someone with so much power.  
"Yes," answered the stranger.  
"You're afraid of me," she said scornfully. Born to rule, she had not yet learned that others could be her equals.  
The stranger shook her head, and she remembered being fascinated by the movement of the woman's hair, bound in long braids that fell on either side of her head. "No, child. I am afraid for you."  
It was not the Sith that had destroyed her memories. It was the Jedi. The Jedi had tried to erase Revan, and replace it with – herself? Was this person real? Did Patience exist?  
Who am I? Why am I here?  
It was Bastila who had distracted her. Her small strike team had boarded the Misericordia. Their attack had left her open for Malak's betrayal.  
It was Bastila who had saved her. Taken her broken and battered body back to the Council for healing. She had come to see her every day in the prison's hospital.  
Heal her body and her mind – draw her back to the Light. But it had failed, so they had tried again. And again. The only things they could not remove were a touch of the Force and an inexhaustible supply of patience.  
Revan apparently had a wicked sense of humor.  
"Are you done hiding from what you once were, Revan?"  
Who am I?  
"Recognize that you were once the Dark Lord Revan. And know that I have taken your place!"  
Malak drew his lightsaber, and she drew hers. Malak paused, and laughed.  
"Even your blades are the same, Revan."  
She blushed as she realized the truth of his words. "I am not Revan," she said shakily. "I may have been Revan once, but I am not Revan now. Revan is gone!"  
"Is she?" mused Malak. "Let us see. Fate has given me a second chance, Revan, another chance to defeat you in combat. I shall not waste it. Once I have defeated you, Revan, my claim to leadership of the Sith will be absolute. No one shall question my right to rule." Malak used the Force to fling Bastila and Carth out of the hall, and the blast door sealed behind her. "Let us settle this once and for all, Revan, in the ancient Sith tradition. Master against Apprentice."  
Malak looked at her curiously when she didn't respond. "Revan, have you been listening to anything I have been saying?"  
"It just occurred to me that if I had remembered this earlier, I could have used your credit account to do some shopping."  
"Revan!" Malak darted forward, his lightsaber flashing.  
She dodged his blow, and counterattacked. "I could have bought some new droid parts on Dreshdae, but it's gone forever now."  
"Yes, I heard about that," Malak laughed. "Not exactly the behavior one would expect from a mindless Jedi drone." Their lightsabers flashed in the darkness of the hall. "I half expected to find a pile of bodies neatly arranged to spell out your name. Tell me, Revan – are you truly returned to the Light? Or is this another one of your games?"  
"I told you, I am not Revan!" She drove him back, through another set of blast doors. I can't be Revan.  
"Well, your skill with the blades belongs to Revan," grumbled Malak. "I was hoping you had forgotten it, but it seems that you've learned even more than you knew before." He used the Force to fling her back, and retreated farther into the next room, recovering his breath and trying to focus.  
Patience scrambled to her feet, shifted forms to meet his next attack, but he didn't attack. He watched her curiously.  
"Which one?"  
"What?"  
"Which one are you sleeping with, Revan? The pretty little Jedi Princess, or the dashing Republic Captain? I can't tell."  
Patience flushed. "Mind your own damn business, Malak!"  
"Well, you have to be sleeping with one of them. I know you, Revan. You need a soft toy to cuddle while you rest."  
"Go to hell!"  
"You need someone to admire your pretty face, and tell you how wonderful you are, or you just start to fade away. Well, if you won't tell me, I'll guess. It's the Jedi Princess, isn't it? The soft hair, those naïve brown eyes, that luscious voice – I can just imagine her stroking your ego. 'You're so wonderful, Revan! How brave you are, Revan! You saved me again, Revan!' How. Adorable."  
Just in time, she realized that he was trying to make her angry. With a giant effort, she held herself back, while Malak laughed.  
The blast door to the right opened, and Bastila entered. "Patience!"  
"Oh, look, she's come to save you. Your friends do not give up easily, Revan. You always did inspire such passionate devotion in your followers." He said it as an insult, reminding her of her single failure.  
Bastila threw Malak back with a blast of Force energy. "Go! Find the Star Forge, I'll hold Malak off!"  
"What?"  
"That's an order, Patience! You're the only one that can do this! Take Carth, and join the others! Now!" Bastila ran through the blast door into the corridor with Malak, and sealed it behind her.  
"No! Bastila, he's too strong!" Carth ran up and pounded on the door.  
Patience stared in shock. "Bastila. Why?"  
"We – we have to go. We won't have time to open this door. We barely had time to reach you. We have to go to the Ebon Hawk, unless we're just going to give up."  
"She – she sacrificed herself for me." Patience felt numb and helpless.  
"We have to go, come on," said Carth roughly, and started running down the corridor.  
Patience followed him, her heart sick and heavy in her chest.


	27. Revelation

The Ebon Hawk blasted away from the Leviathan. "Get rid of those fighters on our tail!" Carth shouted.  
She ran up to the turret, ignoring the questions and the searching stares. A standard flight of six fighters, in perfect formation. She had taught them that. It was efficient. It let them work together, or in smaller groups. Three couples or two triangles. It let them form social units around their team. When people trust each other, they work better together. She spun the turret, and fired six times. The ships exploded. Such bonds also made very distinct targets – if your opponent was using the Force to aim.  
Patience climbed down to the main cabin, and sat at the table. T3 buzzed up to her, and beeped comfortingly at her. She patted the little droid on the head.  
"Where's Bastila?" Jolee demanded. "What happened on that ship?"  
Carth came out of the bridge. "We ran into Malak. He tried to kill us. He would have killed us, but… Bastila sacrificed herself so that we could get away."  
"You mean – she's dead? She can't be dead!" Mission cried.  
"Don't be foolish," Jolee scoffed. "Malak won't kill her. He'll want to use her Battle Meditation against the Republic. All he has to do is turn her to the Dark Side, and the Sith will always be victorious."  
"We can't just leave her! We have to do something!" said Mission.  
Patience looked up. Everyone was looking at her for guidance, everyone except for one person. He was looking at her with distrust and something else in his eyes – something unpleasant.  
"There is something else we have to discuss," said Carth harshly. "Do you want to tell them, or should I?"  
"Tell us what?" asked Canderous.  
"Or do you think they don't deserve to know the truth? Just like all the other Jedi, protecting us with ignorance?"  
"I don't care what Malak said!" Patience said quickly. "I'm not – I am not Revan. I'm Patience."  
"Revan?" Mission looked at her, then at Carth. "Is this some kind of weird joke?"  
"Are you going to say anything?" Carth demanded.  
"Like what?" Patience asked wearily. "Should I repeat that part where I didn't know any more than you did half an hour ago? You're not going to listen to me anyway."  
"The Jedi Council saved Revan from death, and she –"  
"I thought Revan was a man," said Canderous.  
Patience laughed. "Everyone did. That was the whole point of the mask."  
"I also heard that Revan had golden hair. I always thought that was part of the myth."  
"She dyes it," snapped Carth. "I can't believe I fell for your stupid story."  
"Wait. So she – she's really Revan?" Canderous stared at Patience as if he'd never seen her before.  
"Karath told me, on board the Leviathan, and Bastila confirmed it. So did Malak," said Carth grimly, remembering the Dark Lord's words.  
Patience looked down at the table without speaking.  
"Do you remember anything about being the Dark Lord?" asked Mission curiously.  
Patience shook her head. "Just bits and pieces. Flashes, here and there." Something essential was missing, she knew that. But she didn't know what it was, and she didn't care. She didn't want to be Revan.  
"So, what's the big deal?" Mission looked at Carth. "I mean, does it even matter? It's not like she's trying to be the Dark Lord reborn, or anything. Right?"  
"Of course it matters!" Carth shouted. "How can we trust anything she says? How do we know she won't suddenly turn on us as she remembers more? The whole time we've been chasing down these Star Maps, we've had Revan in our midst, listening to every word we said. Our entire mission has been compromised!"   
"I think you're overreacting a bit," said Canderous mildly.  
"She's Malak's Master! Have you forgotten that?"  
Canderous shrugged.  
"Am I really the only one who has a problem with this?" Carth looked around.  
Zaalbar growled.  
"He says he swore a life-debt to the person she is now, not the person she was," Jolee translated.  
"What about you, Jolee? You're a Jedi."  
"I was a Jedi," the old man snorted. "But the Council makes too many damn fool decisions. Like trying to wipe the mind of the most powerful Force user the galaxy has ever seen, and expecting that it would work." He smiled at Carth. "Besides, I knew who she was all along. That really burns you, doesn't it, Flyboy?"  
"You knew?" Patience looked at him in surprise.  
"Of course I did. How do you think you two fools found the Star Map the first time? Wasn't my place to tell you, though." He looked at Carth again. "Seemed to me you were happier pretending to be somebody you weren't. Figured you would pick it up again eventually. I think you're better off knowing the truth, for what it's worth. Maybe someday you'll remember everything, and then it will all make sense again. For now, you're going to do what you have to do, and I'll just help out with that any way I can."  
Carth shook his head in frustration.  
"Juhani?" Patience looked at her. "What do you think?"  
"I have never told you about how I escaped the slave markets on Taris, have I?" Juhani laughed softly.  
"Slave markets on Taris?" said Carth in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"  
Patience suddenly remembered. One of the short breaks in fighting. A quick run to Taris. The look on the Hutt's fat face when he realized that half the slaves and half the buyers were Jedi in disguise. A young Cathar girl crying for her dead mother, watching the Jedi who treated her like a sentient being for the first time in her life.  
"You remember," said Juhani warmly. "How did that noble Jedi ever fall to the Dark Side? Perhaps that was the lie, and this is the true Revan before us now."  
"Great," muttered Carth. "Let's just file that under 'Too obsessed to understand what's going on.'"  
"Query: Is it still forbidden to chastise the impertinent meatbag?"  
"What? Of course it is, don’t you dare hurt him!" Patience exclaimed.  
"Observation: Master's memory still appears to be operating at less than optimal capacity."  
She stared at the droid. "What? Wait." A suspicion that had been lurking in the back of her mind came to the fore. "How did you find me in the Shadowlands, anyway?"  
"Clarification: I did not find you, Master, I went to the specified co-ordinates where the Star Map was located." The droid somehow managed to sound smug.  
"You knew who she was, too!" Carth shouted.  
"Statement: Of course I knew who my Master was. Clarification: Unlike Master, I was lying when I said that my memory had been damaged. Statement: It is a distinct pleasure to see you again, Master."  
Patience stared at the droid. "HK-47. Hunter Killer. Revan's personal assassin."  
"Greeting: Hello, Master."  
"Well, at least now we know who would make a droid like that," Carth snapped. He glared at Canderous. "There's no point in asking you, you're probably overjoyed."  
"And why wouldn't I be?" Canderous challenged. "Revan was the only one in the galaxy who ever bested the Mandalorians. She was the victor, it was her right to do whatever she wanted with the clans. There's never been anyone like her before, or will be again. How can you even ask if I will still follow her?"  
"You're insane," said Carth flatly.  
"Whatever you fight will be worthy of my skill. If I fall in battle, I know it will be a glorious death. I'll see this through with you, no matter how it turns out. If you turn to the white snow to cleanse your past, or if you take to the black water of your memories, I'm yours to the end."  
Patience blushed slightly, and looked down at the table again, too uncertain of her mind to meet his eyes after such a declaration.  
"And you just want to sleep with her!" Carth raged.  
"Of course I do! I'm not blind, or stupid." Canderous shrugged. "I win either way."  
"Ugh. Forget it." Carth stormed out of the main cabin, and went to the bridge.  
Patience looked up from the table as he left.  
Canderous sighed. "I'll be in the garage if you need a shoulder to cry on or something."  
Jolee coughed. "I think I'll go to the medbay."  
Mission headed to the galley. "C'mon, Big Z."  
"I will go to the galley as well," said Juhani.  
T3 zipped off to the engine room, and HK followed him silently.  
Patience stared at the table again, trying to think. Should she go after him? Risk another betrayal?  
Carth walked back into the room. He looked around, and saw that everyone was gone. "Are you going to say anything? Anything at all?"  
"If you're going to jettison me out the airlock, please wait 'til I'm asleep. That's all I ask." She smiled at the look on his face. "What? You want me to disagree with you? Sorry, I think you're right. I think I am a danger. If this ship had a brig, I'd tell you to put me in it. With a good book, of course."  
Some of Carth's anger melted away. What could he do? She wasn't yelling, or angry. She wasn't commanding or convincing. How could he fight against this quiet resignation, against this patient finality? "Was any of it real?" he asked bitterly. "Any of it at all?"  
"I'm only sure about the parts where I told you I love you more than I need to breathe. Everything else is still up in the air."  
Carth closed his eyes, trying to figure out his rage and his pain. "I can't. I'm sorry. Not yet."  
"Of course not," she said softly, trying not to smile with joy. He hadn't said no.  
"Everyone else seems to trust you. It's like I'm the crazy one here, for not wanting to trust the former Dark Lord of the Sith. But I don't really have any other choice, do I?" he asked angrily. "That's what gets me. I have to work with you, whether I want to or not." He looked at her again. "Why didn't you recognize your hands?"  
Patience laughed shyly, and held her hands in front of her. "They're sunburned. And windburned. And calloused. And I haven't done my nails in months. Revan was very vain. You wouldn't believe how vain she was." She turned her hands over, marveling at how strange they looked. "Revan didn't like to look like she did any work."  
Carth looked at her hands. There were bruises on her wrists from Malak's blows. Her nails were short, and chipped. There were grease stains from the workbench, small cuts from working on the engine, small burns here and there. Calluses from the tools and her lightsabers.  
"She had the hands of a doll." Patience looked down at the table again. "Not a person."  
"I'm sorry," said Carth simply.  
"For what?" She didn't look up. "I told you, you're right. It is suspicious, and you shouldn't trust me."  
"I know. That's why I'm sorry. I'm sorry it came out the way it did, and I'm sorry I'm reacting the way I am. I can't help it, and I know you deserve better. But I can't give it to you. Not yet. So, I'm sorry."  
A small tear fell from her face, and landed on one of her hands.  
"Patience – "  
"Leave me alone!" She broke past him, and fled to her room. She threw herself down on the bunk, and lay there, sobbing out her pain and confusion.  
She heard someone enter her room, but didn't look up. He lifted her from the bed, still sobbing, and sat down on the floor with her cradled in his arms.  
"I don't want to be Revan!" she screamed through her tears. "I don't want to save the galaxy! I want to be a farmer's wife, and a mother, and make mudpies with my husband and my sons." She sobbed wildly, and Carth held her tightly, trying not to burden her with his own tears. "I'm sorry, Carth, I'm sorry I made you think it could be real. It's all a lie, just a stupid dream."  
"I think it's a wonderful dream," said Carth gently. "It was more than I ever had before."  
"You don't trust me," she sobbed. "You hate me!"  
"No, I don't hate you," he sighed. "How can you think that?" He sighed again. "Besides all the yelling and the mean things I said, of course. It's just too much to take in at once, Patience. I don't know how to say what I feel. All I know right now is that I don't want you to cry like this because of me."  
She sobbed, a little less heartbroken now. Just being in his arms was soothing and wonderful. "I thought I locked the door," she murmured between sobs.  
"You did." Carth smiled to himself. "You also told me to leave you alone."  
She looked up at him, trying to read his face.  
"I wasn't listening," he explained. "You were being crazy and stupid."  
Her eyes were very wide, and stared at him, too scared to speak, afraid that she would say the wrong thing and he would leave again. She sniffled again, acutely aware of how weak and pathetic she looked.  
"You should try and get some sleep, Patience." His voice was gentle and warm, and he didn't want it to be. But she was beautiful. More beautiful now, in this moment of weakness and need, than she had ever been before.  
"Will... will you stay here?" she asked hopefully.  
Carth sighed, and gently stroked her hair. "Yes, I'm a weak, soft-hearted fool, totally beguiled by your wicked wiles. But they're such soft and lovely wiles," he grinned. "Yes, Patience, I'll be here."  
She hugged him tightly, and held him close, still crying against his chest.  
Carth waited for her to get up and return to the bed, but realized that she had fallen asleep in his arms. He sighed and sagged against the wall, still holding her to him. "I don't believe it. I don't believe you, Saul. Morgana loved me." He looked down at Patience - he couldn't think of her as Revan. "And so does Patience." Carth thought about getting up, and putting her on the bed so she would be more comfortable, but he didn't want to move. He held her close, and daydreamed about making mudpies by the lake and small boys running through fields of grain glowing golden in the sunshine, until he too fell asleep, lost in dreams so real he could almost touch them.

"Carth!"  
"Mmm? What? What is it?" he asked drowsily.  
"What is the baby playing with? Is that safe?"  
"Huh?" Carth opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying on the floor, with Patience still wrapped around him. He looked down at Patience - he couldn't think of her as Revan, no matter how hard he tried. Her eyes were still closed, and she was breathing steadily. She was sleeping peacefully.  
"The baby," she repeated impatiently. "What is that little fuzzy thing he's playing with? And don't you laugh at me for not knowing all the names of the animals on this backwards little mudball again, mister!"  
"I - uh.... I can't see it from here," he said quickly. "Describe it."  
She sighed impatiently, her eyes still closed, moving rapidly beneath the lids. She was asleep, but dreaming. Seeing. She described the little red-furred animal.  
"It's a skittercat. They climb trees and eat bugs."  
"It won't bite the baby, will it?" Her voice was soft and young and maternal - the worried voice of the new mother, familiar to males all over the galaxy.  
"No, but it will try to steal the baby's food," he laughed.  
"You're laughing at me," she pouted.  
"I am not."  
"Yes you are!" She hugged him tighter, and he could feel her love and happiness.  
"All right, I am. I'm laughing at you, little woman. What are you going to do about it?" he teased.  
She half sat up, moving in her sleep, her aim unerring as always, and kissed him warmly on the lips.  
"Good answer," he said, breathless from her kiss, and kissed her back.  
"Oh!" Patience suddenly pulled away from him, the spell of sleep broken. "What was I doing?"  
"Kissing me," Carth explained, and yawned. "This floor is really uncomfortable."  
"I - what?"  
Carth made a non-committal noise, and sat up properly, still supporting a dazed and unsteady Patience.  
"Weren't we fighting? Or something?" she asked nervously. Patience pushed her hair out of her eyes, and stared at Carth.  
"It's really hard to take you seriously as Revan when you go on about things like mudpies and skittercats."  
"What?"  
"You were talking in your sleep," he explained. "You don't remember, do you? What were you dreaming about?"  
"I do not talk in my sleep," she insisted.  
Carth looked at her in surprise. "Yes, you do. You asked me what the baby was playing with. It was a skittercat, from the description."  
She stared at him. "I what?"  
T3 buzzed up and chirped insistently at Carth.  
"What?"  
"He says we're almost at Tatooine," Patience explained.  
"Oh, so I should get up. Or something." He yawned, shifted slightly, and carefully untangled himself from Patience.  
"Carth?"  
"What?" He stood up, and shook himself. "Bleh. I need to wash up first. I wonder if there's any coffee?"  
"Did I really do that?" she asked uncertainly. "I've never talked in my sleep before."  
Carth tried not to laugh at her, and bent down to kiss her forehead. "We'll talk later. I have to go now."


	28. The Messenger

"My Lord."  
Malak half-sat up, not bothering to get out of bed. He stretched and yawned before answering the servant. "What is it? Is our guest awake at last?"  
"No, my Lord," said the servant nervously. He tried not to stare at the naked women in bed with the Sith Lord, who were stirring gently, half-woken by the noise. "There has been some… unusual activity in your main credit account, my Lord."  
Malak stared at the servant in disbelief. She had actually done it. Malak laughed, the sound hollow and unnatural, but his amusement genuine.  
"Shall I send someone to investigate, my Lord?"  
"No," Malak laughed. "I will run out of underlings too quickly if I keep wasting them on Revan's pettiness." He chuckled to himself, admiring her daring. "Bring me the receipts. I am curious to know what my dear former Master has been purchasing with my money."  
"Yes, my Lord." The servant bowed himself out of the room, and Malak settled himself back into the bed.  
The women fell into fitful slumber again, and he watched them sleep. One was a Twi'lek that he had purchased on the slave market in Nar Shadaa; the other, one of the Mandalorian women that Revan had placed on his ship.  
Malak ran his hand over the woman's soft curves and watched her thoughtfully for a moment. He rose from the bed and walked over to his desk. He brought up the recording of yesterday's events again, rewinding it to the beginning. Revan, brash and fearless, a slight smile on her face as they were escorted to the interrogation room. "Already planning your escape," he murmured. "Brilliant, as always." He paused the recording, and idly ran a finger over the outline of her face. "I had forgotten," he whispered to himself. He traced the curve of her lips, looked at her absurdly colored hair. "I forgot how beautiful you are, Revan."  
He let the recording play on. Her defiant response to Karath's posturing and threats. He tried to skip over the parts where she screamed. For some reason, he found he couldn't watch. But there was one part he wanted to hear again. She was kneeling, fighting against the pain, whispering something to herself. "They're hurting him," she sobbed to herself. "They're hurting him, and I can't make them stop!"  
Hurting whom?  
The words had a sick fascination for him. He watched it again, still no closer to understanding. He didn’t understand Karath's comment about her weakness, either. He'd never heard the Admiral mention such a thing before, and it was, of course, too late to ask him now. Malak sighed.  
He forwarded the recording to the final moments, when Bastila gazed so adoringly on Revan. He noted that the Republic soldier did as well, but not as blatantly. Revan blushed at their compliments, and Malak smiled in amusement. Revan, hero of a thousand battles, blushing like a schoolgirl, shy and awkward. If it was all an act, it was magnificently done.  
He watched the Cathar ran in, and turn off the cages. He watched Revan leap down, graceful and light, and run up to give her a hug. He paused it again, drinking in the sight of Revan's body in perfect silhouette. She was very beautiful.  
Malak leaned back in his chair and stared at the picture on the screen.  
Revan.  
He turned off the recording and returned to the bed. He looked at the women lying there, but didn't touch them. Malak lay still for a moment, thinking. Finally he stood, and got dressed.  
If he couldn't have Revan, he could at least go talk to Bastila.

"What the – where did you get all the money for this?" Carth demanded as Patience dumped another stack of parts and weapon upgrades in the cargo hold.  
"You don't really want to know," she said and walked back to take the next box from Canderous.  
Carth's eyes widened as he stared at the pile of shining armor. "Maker's breath! We don't have that kind of money, Patience!"  
"Nope," she said cheerfully. "We don't."  
Canderous laughed. "But Malak does. Or he did, before we raided his account."  
"You what?"  
"Oh, calm down," grinned Patience. "He knew I would take it."  
"What?"  
"He never changed his passcode," she explained. "It's his way of finding out what I'm thinking." Patience moved aside as Zaalbar entered the ship with a huge crate of food.  
"You mean, now he knows you're preparing for a great battle and a long journey?"  
Patience laughed. "More like 'Nyah nyah! I'm taking your money! I'm not afraid of you!'" Patience made a rude noise with her tongue, finishing the thought in her mind, then realized what she was doing and sighed. "Revan can be very petty when she wants to." She walked over to the cargo hold to check on their supplies, shaking her head in disgust.  
"I can't decide if that's scary or sexy," muttered Carth.  
"Go for scary," suggested Canderous. "Then she can cry on my shoulder all night."  
Carth glared at him.  
"What?" Canderous grinned. "Wait, I have a better idea. You take Patience, I'll take Revan."  
"What? How would that that even work? Wait, why am I discussing this with you? Get out of here!"  
"I'm working," Canderous pointed out.  
"I'm armed."  
Canderous considered, then decided that discretion was the better part of valor in this case. "I'm only leaving because she'll kill me before I can explain."  
Carth, still leaning against the weapons locker where the heavy weapons were stored, pulled out his blaster pistol and checked the sights.  
"I'm going!"

"Well, I hope our accommodations are to your liking," said Malak with a generous helping of false sincerity.  
"You're a monster," hissed Bastila. She was chained to the wall of a torture room, her hair in alluring disarray, her clothes artfully torn. Nothing had been done to her, besides the staging of a perfect picture.  
"So I've been told," Malak sighed. "And yet, I'm not the one who sent assassins to kill the hero who saved the Republic." Malak walked around her, checking the effect of her pose and the scene.  
Bastila glared at him. "How dare you!"  
"The truth hurts, doesn't it?" Malak laughed.  
"Is this part of the torture?" Bastila asked, trying to force herself to be calm.  
"I suppose you were expecting me to use the torture cages? I'm sorry to disappoint you. It's obvious that you are too strong to be broken by pain, and I'm not a woman hating sadist like Karath." He looked curiously at her. "I'll have to find another way to break you."  
"I will never fall to the Dark Side! If you think torture will turn me, Malak, you are a fool," said Bastila sharply.  
"Mere pain would have no effect on someone like you," Malak laughed. "In fact, it would be worse than useless. No, dear Bastila, you misunderstand. What I want is for you to experience the power and the freedom of the Dark Side. I want to whet your appetite for power. I want you to come to me willingly."  
"Never!"  
Malak laughed again. He was enjoying himself. "You're fascinating. I can see why Revan likes you." Malak leaned on the wall next to her, and held up a datapad. The recording was paused on Bastila's face as she gazed adoringly at Patience in the cell next to her. "When did Revan decide you were worth toying with?"  
Bastila turned away and looked at the empty space on the wall beyond.  
Malak gazed down at Bastila's body, assessing her curves and her shape. "Usually, Revan likes them a little larger." Bastila flushed, but didn't respond. Malak played with the datapad, brought up another recording. Karath in his office, his face twisted with sick sexual desire, grunting as he stroked himself beneath the desk. "Oops, that's not the one I wanted." Carth's screams of pain rang in the background until he stopped the playback and brought up a different recording.  
This one was of a younger, golden-haired version of the woman she knew as Patience, half-naked in the hall of a Republic starship, shrieking wildly and running away from a group of similarly undressed women of various Republic species, led by a tall, graceful, muscular Human woman, with long yellow hair and slightly slanted green eyes. She was holding a squealing lizard and trying to touch Revan with it. They were all laughing like children, and the hall was lined with Republic soldiers and Jedi in various stages of undress, laughing and cheering the women on.  
"The Exile," Bastila breathed.  
The tables were turned, and the women were now fleeing from Revan, who had apparently enlisted the help of a tall, beautiful Iridonian woman and was chasing her tormentors away with a fire hose. Suddenly the recording changed angles, as the vidcam was dropped and Revan turned the hose on Malak to shouts of wild laughter from the both of them.  
Malak chuckled. "You know, for the life of me, I can't remember when I got the camera back. Somewhere in here, I have one of her and the Exile making out with the Doctor before Kavar walked in on them."  
"The Doctor?" Bastila asked softly, knowing that she should keep her silence. She knew it was a trap, but she wanted to see more.  
"The black-haired Iridonian. The blue-haired one was one of our pilots, her older sister. They're all dead now, of course. Just like everyone else Revan has ever graced with her favors." Malak looked at her, and Bastila turned away again.  
"You never answered my question," said Malak conversationally. "Either of them, actually. But you can't be enjoying yourself here. We could retire to a more private, comfortable area, if you like," he suggested calmly.  
"You're mad," gasped Bastila. "Do you think you can seduce me? Is that it?"  
Malak shrugged, his muscles rippling beneath the red leather of his armor. "Why not? Revan apparently did."  
"That isn't true," Bastila insisted hotly. "You disgust me! Don't you dare to lay a hand on me!"  
Malak laughed at her outrage. "Oh, don't be ridiculous. I'm not going to force you. If you don't want to, just say so."  
"Who in their right mind would want to be touched by a monster like you?" Bastila raged.  
"Revan."  
"What?"  
"Oh, you said 'right mind,' I think that might rule her out," Malak mused. He looked at her again, noted the shock on her face. "What? You don't believe me?"  
"Of course not!"  
"I'm offended," Malak said dryly. "Tell you what, come up to my room, and you can tell me all about your unrequited love for Revan, and I'll show you recordings of her making out with beautiful women. And then I'll show you the ones from my room, and you can help me play 'Guess which one is Revan in disguise.' It's a fun game, where you win even if you lose," he laughed.  
"Oh!" Bastila just glared at him. "What kind of torture is this?"  
"Of course, you'd rather believe that dear, sweet Revan is being wronged here, that she isn't an evil, soul-devouring slut who draws people to her so that she can drain them and then toss them aside when they bore her." Malak sighed. He raised a hand to his heart. "How could I, her trusted apprentice, think such horrible things of my poor Master?" Malak held up the datapad again, and replayed one of the scenes where Carth, Bastila, and Patience were all screaming in agony, but kept his hand over the part of the screen showing Patience. "Did you see it?" he asked her.  
"See what?" asked Bastila in confusion.  
He reset the recording, and played it again, but this time, only showing Patience.  
Bastila frowned. "What's wrong with her?"  
He looked at Bastila, and watched her eyes grow wide in shock. "Revan is feeding on your pain." He smiled at the horror in her eyes. "That's why I can't torture you. You're still bonded to her, and it will only make her stronger. I did warn Karath about that, but," Malak shrugged, "either he got a little carried away, or, more likely, he was hoping that Revan would kill me." Malak laughed. "Karath and I didn't get along very well."  
Bastila turned away, trying not to let Malak see that she was affected by the scene in the recording, trying to ignore the screams of pain coming from the device.  
Malak stopped the recording and looked at her. "Well?"  
"Well, what?" Bastila continued staring at the wall, the cracks in the floor. Anything except the man leaning over her.  
"Did you want to stay here? Or retire to a more comfortable spot? I can have my servants do your hair properly. It's a bit of a mess." He gently touched her tangled braids, and Bastila flinched away. He slowly trailed his hand down the side of her neck, along her side, ignoring her shudders. "Are you a virgin, by any chance?"  
Bastila flushed, furious at his rudeness.  
"Of course you're not," he sighed. "They never are. Tell me, who was your first? A loving master?" he asked softly.  
Bastila whimpered, and tried to move away from his hand on her body, trying not to react to the unexpected gentleness of his touch.  
Malak's hand continued gently moving over her, touching her soft breasts, stroking her thighs, caressing her hips. "A trusted friend?"  
"Stop," she pleaded, even as she realized that she shouldn't have spoken.  
"A dashing hero?" His hand finally touched the soft, wet heat between her legs, and Bastila gasped. "Wounded unto death? Slender hands and generous hips? Long, golden hair. Soft, warm, loving lips, arousing feelings in you that you never dreamed of?"  
"Leave me alone!" Bastila screamed, even as her body strained for his contact, desperate for release. "I didn't! Stop it, don't touch me!"  
"But you wanted to. Of course you did. Everyone does. Revan is so very picky, and so sweet. One taste," he slid his hand beneath her shirt, "is never enough, is it?"  
She was shocked to find that his hands were warm and gentle. She kept expecting him to be brutal and vile, and he simply wasn't.  
"Let's go upstairs," suggested Malak. "You'll be much more comfortable there." He undid the chains with one hand, still gently caressing her breasts with the other, listening to her breathing quicken under his touch. After so long in the restraints, her legs wouldn't support her weight, and Bastila sagged helplessly into his arms. "Oops," laughed Malak as he lifted her to his chest. His hand moved down her body again, and Bastila moaned in suppressed pleasure at his skillful touch.  
"You brute," Bastila sobbed. "What do you want with me?"  
Malak laughed. "I just want you to talk to me. Tell me everything about her," Malak said gently as he carried Bastila out of the torture chamber.

"He won't talk if we bring too many people," said Canderous. "He'll just assume that I've come to kill him."  
"Do you want to talk to him?" asked Carth.  
Canderous sighed. "I feel like I ought to try and explain."  
"Okay," said Carth uncertainly. "But you can't go alone."  
"No," Canderous agreed. "That would be very foolhardy."  
"So…"  
Canderous blushed a little. "I would like to bring Patience with me."  
"Just Patience."  
Canderous nodded.  
Carth groaned inwardly. "Why me?" He looked at the Mandalorian. "If you two run off, I will find you. I'll have that damn droid track her down."  
"I'm not going to run off!"  
"I'm just warning you," said Carth, as he walked away.  
Canderous grinned. "He's a good man." He walked to the garage, to find Patience. "Hey."  
"Hi! What did Carth say?" She jumped off the worktable.  
"He says it's okay. Well, he said more than that, but it's not important."  
Patience smiled. "This won't take long. Hopefully, you can talk Jagi out of being so crazy."  
Canderous shouldered his weapons, and they walked out of the ship together. "Doubt it. He's one of those guys who take losses hard. I might be able to make him understand why, but he'll never forgive me. Might as well get it over with."  
Patience hired a Jawa to drive them part of the way, and they walked through the Dune Sea in companionable silence.  
"There," Canderous pointed to the group of men gathered on a ridge. "There they are."  
Patience nodded, and they trudged over to meet Jagi.  
"So, you finally managed to find your way here," Jagi sneered. "And you even found a friend to stand with you."  
"I see you brought some friends of your own, as well," said Canderous calmly.  
"We are the last survivors of your treachery, Canderous Ordo. How much did you pay her, Canderous?"  
"I came of my own free will," said Patience firmly.  
"Spare me your excuses, Jedi. I know why he brought you," Jagi sneered, and Canderous flushed bright red.  
"Enough of this talk, Jagi!" he roared. "Let's do what we came here to do."  
"Is there no bridge between you?" asked Patience, switching to Mandalorian, using the ancient formula of truce between clans. "Are there so many of your clan left that you would spill your brother's blood over this?"  
"We both know what is at stake here, and we both know what we must do," said Jagi, following her lead and speaking in Mandalorian. "It is only in death that this can end. Only his death can wipe out the crime that he committed."  
"This is a matter of honor," snarled Canderous. "My honor. I cannot abide by this insult, not if I ever hope to stand among my people ever again. I must do this."  
"Speak the words," said Patience, still using the ancient words of truce. "Why must you fight him, Canderous?"  
"He has slandered my honor among the Mandalorians, and challenged my decisions as his Commander."  
"I speak the truth," insisted Jagi. "The deaths of my comrades – your warriors – this is a debt that can only be erased with your blood. You saw the prospect of glory, and you abandoned us! You changed the battle plan, and left us to die, surrounded by enemies!"  
"If I had not attacked when I did, the battle would not have been won so easily," Canderous protested.  
"But it still would have been won!" Jagi shouted. "You sent our men to die! You will pay!"  
"That's not the way it happened," Canderous broke in.  
"Speak," said Patience calmly. "Commander, men died at your orders. Why?"  
"The Althiri were brave, they fought well, but in the midst of battle, I saw a break in their line. Their center was exposed. I saw a weakness, and I went for it. If I had let that chance go, how many more warriors would have died in the assault? How much longer would the battle have taken, Jagi? I was right, and you know it."  
"It was the Ordos that you sent in! Not your men, just the Ordos! You left the rest of us to fall into the hands of the Althiri and their allies, while you won the battle and covered your clan in glory!" Jagi shouted. "There was a plan, given to us by the Captains. Instead of following it, you went off on your own! You were entrusted with the safety of three clans, but only one made it off the field of battle!"  
"I regret their loss," said Canderous sadly, "but what I did was necessary. Even the Captains agreed that I had chosen wisely."  
"It was a wise tactical move," said Patience. "It is not the Mandalorian way to see an enemy's weak point and pass it by."  
"What do you know of Mando'ade, jetii?" snarled Jagi. "No more than your bounty hunter dog knows! He is a glory hound, and a coward!"  
Patience stepped back so that she was no longer between Canderous and Jagi. "It seems the time for speech has passed," she said mildly.  
"There is no bridge between us," said Canderous. "You have insulted my honor for the last time, Jagi."  
"There is no bridge between us, murderer!" Jagi drew his weapons. "Let us settle this for once and for all! Step aside, jetii!"  
"My brother's fight is mine," she said firmly. "I stand where he stands, I fight what he fights." She drew her lightsabers.  
"Then die where he dies, jetii witch!" Jagi charged, and his men started shooting.  
Patience used her lightsabers to deflect the first blasts, then charged into their midst, ruining their aim. Her lightsabers flashed, cutting them down before they could switch to more effective weapons. From the corner of her eye, she saw Canderous, blade in hand, dueling with Jagi. She turned her attention back to the men she was fighting, and finished them off as quickly as she could. There was a hoarse cry from behind her, and she smiled. Canderous would never make a noise like that. She finished with the last of Jagi's companions, and turned to face him.  
Canderous watched the body fall to the desert sand. "I didn't think it would end this way," he confessed. "I never dreamed that someday, I would be killing my own people like this."  
Patience walked up to him. "Are you all right?"  
"I'm fine," he said quickly. "I just – I need to think things through. For myself." He looked at her, struck again by just how small and delicate she seemed. "Thank you. Thank you for standing by me the way you did."  
Patience smiled sweetly, and put her arm through his, drawing him away from the corpses. "You aren't going to try and kiss me again, are you?" She looked up at him.  
Canderous shook his head. "It isn't right."  
"True," she smiled to herself. "Ah, there's our ride. I'm so glad they waited." She ran up to the little Jawa, and jumped into the landspeeder. "Come on! Let's get back to the ship." She held out her hand to help him in, and he sat next to her as the Jawa sped away, listening to her happy, idle chatter.

Bastila wasn't sure what she was supposed to be doing. Screaming? Trying to run away? One of the servants wrapped her hair in a thick towel, and two others held out a robe to her so that she could step out of the bath. With a sigh, she let them wrap her up and lead her to a couch opposite Malak. She tried to ignore him as he reclined on his own couch with a beautiful Human woman in his lap, reading datapads handed to him by a nervous looking young man in the uniform of a Sith officer. The servants laid her down on the couch as she looked around the room. "Why are there two couches?" she asked suddenly.  
"That," he smiled, "was Revan's spot."  
Bastila stared at him in surprise. "Revan took baths here? With you watching?" One of the slaves knelt down in front of her, and held out a palette of colored paints for her toenails. Another began tending to Bastila's hair, making soft noises of commiseration at the state of her hair.  
Malak laughed in light amusement. "Revan was mildly obsessed with her looks, even if no one else ever saw her face."  
Bastila tried again to think of how to properly resist this insidious seduction.  
"What color do you like?" Malak asked the officer, and the man mumbled something nervously, trying not to look at the beautiful Jedi on the couch. "Good choice. Go for the scarlet," Malak suggested.  
Part of her wanted to insist that she didn't need to have her toenails painted, that she was happy to have dirty hair with split ends, and that she didn't want them to touch her anymore. When she didn't refuse, the servant selected a brilliant scarlet and moved down to start giving her a pedicure. Bastila sighed.  
"Don't worry, they're very good at their jobs. Revan didn't permit imperfections." Malak laughed. "I'm much more forgiving. Or rather, I am more accepting of heartfelt and sincere apologies from beautiful women." Malak smiled down at the woman lying on him. "What do you think of her?" he asked suddenly.  
"She is beautiful," said the woman softly, "but not as beautiful as Lord Revan."  
Malak laughed as Bastila flushed. "You must forgive Hannah. She is a bit… partial. Well, let us take a look at what your dear, loyal companions are doing in preparation to rescue you. What have we here? New shoes! Probably Revan. Books. Must be Revan. Heavy armor?"  
"What are you looking at?" Bastila asked nervously.  
Malak chuckled. "Revan raided my credit account and is going shopping on Tatooine. A blaster rifle?"  
"Canderous," she sighed.  
"Oh, the Mandalorian. Weapon upgrades, parts for a bowcaster. That must be your Wookiee companion. More books. Revan."  
Bastila laughed shakily. She knew this was wrong. She knew she shouldn't be lying here, naked except for a towel, beneath the eyes of a Sith Lord who was pretending not to look at her. She shouldn't be allowing servants to condition and style her hair, or paint her toenails. But the alternative was to lie in a filthy dungeon and suffer... and not hear tantalizing little tidbits about Revan. She glanced at the woman he had called Hannah, and quickly looked away when she realized that the woman was looking at her. She glanced up at the officer instead, who was still handing over notes to Malak. He must have felt her gaze, because he looked up and met her eyes. He blushed furiously and dropped a datapad, just missing Malak's arm.  
"Oh, forgive me, my Lord," he said quickly, and knelt to pick it up.  
Malak glared at him. "Clumsy fool."  
"It was my fault," said Bastila quickly.  
"What? Flirting with my underlings already? You could at least wait a day," Malak grumbled.  
Bastila flushed. "I was not flirting."  
"'I was not flirting,'" Malak mimicked her.  
"Oh!" Bastila raged. The servants quickly moved away from her. "What?"  
"Well, at this point, Revan would have started killing people," Malak laughed. He gently patted the still-kneeling officer on the head. "Get up, fool. You're safe, apparently."  
The officer stood, and Bastila couldn't help but notice how young he looked for his position.  
"What?" Malak looked at the officer. "Does he have something on his face? Would you like him to?" he said suggestively.  
Bastila blushed. "Why is he so young?"  
"Haven't you figured out yet that the answer to every question you ask me involves Revan?" Malak looked at the officer again, who was standing perfectly still and silent. "She likes them that way." Malak shrugged. "He doesn't annoy me overmuch." Malak laughed. "What do you think of her, fool? Is she as beautiful as Lord Revan?"  
The officer stammered nervously. "Her eyes are nicer than Lord Revan's."  
Bastila had always thought that falling to the Dark Side would involve violence and fear. Anger and hatred. Not sybaritic comfort. Not barely hidden desire. The constant temptations were wearing away her resistance, slowly, but surely, and she knew it, but she didn't know how to resist it. She couldn't force herself to turn away from the gentle suggestions that she was the obvious replacement for Revan. She was beginning to realize that she didn't want to.  
Malak laughed again. He held up the datapad. "Three thousand credits on droid parts?"  
"Revan," they said together.


	29. Bone of Contention

Manaan should have been a beautiful planet. Lush trees, scintillating oceans, a crystal-clear sky. But all she could see was an old woman's face, sobbing in broken grief after her husband's infidelity had been exposed.  
"Elora," Jolee tried to talk to his friend's wife, but she broke away.  
"Why?" she bawled. "Why did you have to say it, Jolee?"  
"We were saving his life," said Carth sharply. He wasn't enjoying this scene. It made him sick to his stomach, watching the woman trying to hold back her tears and failing.  
"Couldn't you have done it without saying it?" she sobbed. "I didn't want to know. I didn't want everyone to know. He didn't mean it."  
"Then maybe he shouldn't have been sleeping with a Sith," said Patience sharply.  
"Patience!" Carth looked at her in surprise, but she looked away and didn't meet his eyes.  
Jolee frowned at her, and drew Elora away to try and calm her down.  
Canderous shrugged. "He was a cheater. He got better than he deserved, if you ask me."  
"No one would ask you," said Carth. He looked at Patience again.  
"It wasn't right," sighed Patience. "He should have been punished for what he did. But the Republic – " she shook her head bitterly. "I’m just going to keep telling myself I did it for the Republic." She looked over at the old woman, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed into Jolee's arms. "I hope it will be worth it." She walked out of the High Court, to try and wipe away the darkness of the scene she had just witnessed.  
Carth followed her, and Canderous led Juhani over to look at the mosaics on the wall of the High Court so that the two would be alone.  
Patience heard the footsteps, and dropped her head to her chest. Seeing the betrayal unfold before her eyes hurt her more than she had expected it to, and she didn't know why.  
"It won't be worth it," said Carth gently. "Not to her. It will be good for the Republic, at least. And Elora can at least still say that her husband is a hero."  
"But it isn't true," said Patience bitterly. "Why do men do that to the women they love, Carth? If he was tired of her, why didn't he just say so and leave?"  
Carth shrugged. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but he could sense something – some tinge of Revan – and it repelled him. "Women do it, too," he said gently. "He didn't do it because he was a man. He did it because he was a selfish jerk."  
Patience laughed a little at that, and looked up at him. "What is it?" she asked softly. "I'm bothering you again. What did I do now?"  
Carth leaned against the railing, and looked carefully at Patience. "Who was it? That betrayed you?"  
Patience shook her head. "I don't remember. Either that, or Revan doesn't feel like telling. I just remember being very insanely angry at him. And something else," she said softly. "That little boy – on Tatooine, remember? Those were his eyes."  
"Oh." Carth wasn't sure what to say.  
Patience smiled wryly. "Yeah. At least Elora doesn't have to worry about that."  
Carth swallowed nervously, and pulled her into his arms. She started in surprise, then melted into his embrace, holding on to him silently. Carth felt a drop of warm water on his arm, then another. He tightened his arms around her, in silent sympathy.

"They're on Manaan finally," Malak announced as he entered the room.  
Bastila looked up from the chaise where she was reclining while servants displayed various outfits for her to consider.  
"And what are they doing?" asked Bastila. She was still trying to have faith in her companions. It was getting very hard.  
"Oh, wear that," said Malak approvingly as they held up a long black sleeveless dress. "Then you can wear the whole set of bangles."  
Bastila glared at him. "Don't you have anything better to do than dress me up?"  
Malak laughed, and sprawled on the couch opposite. "Not really." He beckoned to one of the servants. "Bring in the jewelry for that dress. Oh, and that ruby necklace I just got." The servant bowed low and left the room. Malak tossed a datapad to Bastila, using the Force to make sure it got to her hands safely. "Well, so far they've broken into the Sith base and set a murderer free on technicalities. For the good of the Republic, of course."  
Bastila wanted to argue, but read the report on the data pad instead, and watched the recordings for herself. She could understand why they had done it but she found herself getting angrier and angrier as she reviewed the trial. Why did everything have to be justified? Why weren't things just good and evil as they had once been? This man was a murderer and a cheater – he had sold the Republic's secrets, betrayed his oath to his wife, all for a few moments of pretending that he was still young and handsome with a younger woman. She slammed the datapad down on the counter. He had compromised the security of the Republic with his selfish, foolish actions, leaving it for others to save him and keep the balance of power on Manaan intact.  
The servants waited patiently for her to recover from her outburst, then went back to displaying clothes and shoes.  
"Where's Hannah?" asked Malak idly. He looked around, with the elegant unconcern of a Sith Lord for his underlings.  
Bastila flushed. "She – I – "  
Malak raised an eyebrow, pretending that he hadn't already sensed the answer to his question. "What? Killing my servants already?" Malak checked the time on a datapad. "Oh, well, I suppose it's been a whole day. You held out long enough."  
"Oh!" Bastila glared at him. "She would keep insisting that I wasn't as beautiful or perfect as Revan. I couldn't take it anymore!"  
Malak shrugged. "I thought it was rather endearing personally, but I can see how it would get tiresome." He leaned back against the couch. "I only find it inconvenient because I was in the mood for a short interlude." He eyed Bastila.  
"No."  
"Oh, come on," he laughed, "it will be fun!"  
Bastila continued to look away, trying to resist his insidious suggestions.  
The servant returned with two jewelry boxes, and Malak lifted out a necklace, a solid gold chain with a single giant ruby dangling from it like a drop of blood.  
Bastila stared at it. The ruby was the deepest red that she had ever seen, flawless and sparkling. Jedi weren't supposed to own more than they could carry. Everything was supposed to be sensible and utilitarian. There was no room in the life of a Jedi for sensuousness or beauty.  
"Come here and try it on." Malak held up the necklace, and waved away the servant holding the jewelry box.  
Bastila stood up, and walked slowly to stand before Malak. She was wearing nothing but a silken robe. Her hair was in a single braid, in preparation for more elaborate styling later. Part of her couldn't believe that she was doing this, that she was giving up her friends for a sparkling trinket. She felt the weight of the chain on her neck, saw the beautiful ruby slide down her chest, to rest between her breasts, beneath the folds of her dressing gown where she couldn't see it. She felt Malak's warm hands gently closing the clasp at the back of her neck.  
The other part of her wanted to see what would happen. Bastila reached up, pushed the robe away from her shoulders, so that the ruby was completely exposed. With a soft whisper, softer than the cry of her soul in despair at what she was becoming, the robe fell to the floor as she turned to face Malak.  
"Beautiful," he said softly. "Just as I thought you would be."

Kolto. The healing fluid. Vital to the success of any war effort. Impossible to synthesize. Able to heal any wound, given enough time and enough kolto. Every battleship, Sith or Republic, had at least one kolto tank. Every building, every home, every soldier's kit, had at least one kolto pack for emergencies. Not even the Mandalorians had dared to attack Manaan, the only planet where kolto could be found. According to the legends, kolto came from the Progenitor, the ancestor of all life on Manaan, who dwelled deep inside the Hrakert Rift.  
Patience, in the environmental suit that let her walk on the floor of the ocean, looked down into the Rift, and wondered if she would ever be able to tell anyone the truth. She watched the glittering Star Map, and its accompanying generator, pulsing crystalline light into the water. Just as the wroshyr trees of Kashyyk had been altered by the Star Map there – and, she realized, the Krayt Dragons of Tatooine – kolto was the result of the engineering done by the ancient empire that had created the Star Maps. The Star Maps – giant computers that could both defend themselves, and repair themselves if damaged – placed not only as monuments of a fallen empire's greatness, but to serve a purpose.  
She wondered what purpose the Star Maps on Korriban and Dantooine served. What had the fallen Empire harvested from those worlds? Even as she asked herself the question, she realized the answer. Both worlds called to Force users, nurtured them as they grew in power. How many times had the schools been rebuilt? How long had the Star Maps regenerated the cycle, calling Dark to Dark, Light to Light?  
Patience shook her head, and watched the giant Firaxan shark floating gently in the water between her and the Star Map. The two Selkath in the station had warned her that the shark had gone mad – it was the largest that anyone had ever seen, and was possibly even the Progenitor herself. They knew what caused the Firaxa's madness – it was the machinery that they had secretly installed, and they had unknowingly triggered the Star Map's defenses. One of the Selkath had suggested poisoning the water to drive the Firaxa away; the other had suggested destroying the machinery instead.  
Patience held out her hands, and concentrated on the water around her, the feel of the ground beneath her, the wind that stirred the water. She felt herself touching the mind of the creature before her. At first it was alien and incomprehensible, then suddenly, everything changed.  
You are not as the others.  
The voice echoed strangely inside her head. It was not so much a conversation, as just knowing. The words completed themselves before the thought registered.  
You wish to save, and not to destroy.  
She realized that the damage had already been done by the illegal station in the water – the kolto harvest would slow, and quality would suffer for centuries.  
You will save.  
Patience walked forward and changed the settings in the machinery, as the Firaxa – a projection of the true Progenitor – watched calmly.  
You will do as the Force commands.  
The explosion knocked her off her feet, but it was the vision in her head that stunned her so badly she nearly fell into the Rift. A distant world, two moons hanging in the sky, a little boy tugging at her sleeve, a baby in her arms, playing with her hair, as she stood, watching her husband walk up to her, smiling and laughing.  
Patience staggered back to her feet, and realized that she was right next to the Star Map. Shakily, she downloaded the data as the Firaxa, satisfied that she had understood the message, sank back into the depths of the Rift.  
Patience shook her head, trying to center herself again, and returned to the station, where Carth was waiting.


	30. Recollection

"You didn't tell them everything you found down there, did you?" asked Jolee as he sat down next to Patience. He slid a cup of tea over the table to her, which she accepted gratefully.  
"I didn't," she said calmly. "They weren't ready to hear it."  
Jolee snorted.  
"Or maybe," she smiled, "I wasn't ready to explain how I was talking to a giant fish."  
Jolee laughed. "Good point. So, where are we going now? If you don't mind my asking. Not that it matters if you mind, I'm asking anyway."  
"The data from the Star Maps is still compiling. It looks like some uncharted, hidden world somewhere."  
"Hidden worlds," Jolee snorted. "Hate those things. So stupid."  
Patience looked at him in surprise. "Are there really that many of them?"  
He looked at her sourly. "More than you'd like to think about, little missy. Strange world with dangerous artifacts? Hide it. World with freaky natives that won't integrate into Republic society? Hide it. World with too many Force-sensitives? Hide it."  
Patience blinked, as his words caused something to flicker just on the edge of her memory, but not close enough for her to pick it up.  
"Did you finish fighting with Flyboy or what?" asked Jolee with a smile that secretly made her want to slap the old man.  
"No," said Patience sourly. "The stars shifted their positions and he doesn't trust me again."  
Jolee laughed, and shook his head. "So, you've broken it off with him? Gonna run off with the Mandy instead?"  
"No," said Patience sharply. "Will you mind your own business?"  
"Well, you're not going to run off with Kitty, she can't give you babies."  
Patience turned bright red.  
"Our children would be great warriors," Canderous called from the garage, unable to continue pretending he couldn't hear the old man's ramblings. "You should really think about it!"  
Jolee chuckled at the look on Patience's face, and left the table to go check the communication terminal.  
Patience opened her mouth to say something, then frowned in surprise as Canderous suddenly dropped the armor he was working on and ran to his room. She turned around, and saw Carth walking up to her. Patience looked around quickly, and realized that she was alone with him again.  
"What was Canderous yelling about?"  
"Nothing," she said quickly.  
Carth looked at her.  
"He wasn't serious about it anyway. He's holding out for a pretty little Jedi of his own," she said before her brain could stop her tongue.  
Carth stiffened. "What? Why can't he just – never mind. I kind of have a question for you," he said quickly. "Well, a bunch of questions, really."  
"Okay," she said slowly.  
"Is that okay?" he asked politely.  
She blinked at him in surprise. "Oh, yes, of course." Her heart sank. When had they grown so far apart that he needed to ask permission to talk to her?  
"How old are you?"  
Patience stared at him. "That's not the kind of question you ask a lady!"  
Carth crossed his arms and looked at her.  
"If you're asking me when I was born, I don't actually know. If you're asking why I don't look old and wrinkly, it's because Jedi don't age like normal people, and Light side Force users tend to look younger longer than their Dark side counterparts. If you're asking how much older than you I am, I'm just not going to tell you."  
"Sorry, it just occurred to me that you're possibly old enough to be my mother," said Carth dryly.  
Patience drank her tea and ignored him.  
"I have another question."  
Patience sighed. "I'm not going to like this one any more than the last, am I?"  
"Probably not," he agreed. "But I'm going to ask you anyway. Were you and Malak – "  
The tea cup in her hand shattered. "Sorry," Patience muttered, and stood up. "I'll go clean that up."  
"You were, weren't you? You and Malak were lovers," said Carth quietly, and she couldn't tell if he was angry or just disappointed.  
"We were not lovers," her voice low and strained. "Revan didn't know the meaning of the word. She had people that she possessed, toys that filled her idle hours. Whatever was between Revan and Malak was physical. Nothing more." She hadn't turned to face him as she spoke, and she was about to start walking away again when he spoke again.  
"He didn't look like it was just physical."  
Revan – Patience – turned back to him. Confused, concerned. "What are you talking about?"  
Carth was looking at the shattered cup, and not at her. "Malak. Before he started taunting you, there was a look in his eyes. Like he was genuinely happy to see you."  
"Yeah, so he could kill me properly," she said in confusion.  
Carth shook his head.  
"Trust me," she urged, "Revan was one of his many lovers, and even if she was most powerful, she was not the favorite." Patience stopped as a sudden flash of memory burned through her, watching a planet burn away beneath the guns of her fleet. She stepped backwards, trying to put more distance between herself and Carth. "I – I – " she sank to her knees, bowed by the weight of the evil that she had done in a moment of jealous rage.  
Carth looked at her finally, but she still couldn't read his face. "What's wrong?"  
"I just remembered something," she said, trying to hold back a rush of tears. "Something horrible, of course. Just like everything else Revan has ever done."  
"Stop." Carth's voice was calm and unusually commanding.  
"But – "  
"Why are you confessing things to me, Patience?"  
She looked at him, completely lost. "Because you deserve to know the truth."  
He looked at her. "Is that the only reason?"  
"What other reason would there be?"  
"The same reason that I recognized what was in Malak's eyes. I'll go clean up the mess. Could you check on the navigation computer and see if it's done compiling yet?" Carth walked down the stairs before she could recover from her shock, leaving her staring after him in silence.  
Patience staggered to her feet, and wiped off her face before obediently checking the computer. It was still working on the data. She walked to the garage, and sat on the workbench, resting her head in her hands.  
"You okay?" asked Canderous curiously.  
"I just realized that I don't understand men, and I don't think I ever will."  
Canderous chuckled. "Hey, can I ask a question? It won't make you cry, I promise."  
Patience smiled at him. "Go ahead. Everyone wants to pick Revan's brain today for some reason."  
"What happened to the Mask of the Mandalore? We know you took it, but," he shrugged. "That's really all anyone knows."  
Patience thought about it. She saw a brief vision of herself, hiding the mask away in her robes, but couldn’t see anymore more.  
HK, standing quietly at the far corner of the garage, made a very quiet noise that could only be described as a snicker.  
Her eyes went wide as she remembered. "It's gone," she blurted out. "Forget it, it's just a stupid mask!"  
Canderous frowned at her. "You know better than that. It's a serious part of our culture – it's a tradition, more than that. It's a symbol. If it was destroyed, just say so."  
Patience cringed, not sure how to explain. "Look," she tried again, "that mask was worn by a failure. Is that really the legacy you want?"  
"So it wasn't destroyed," said Canderous with a wry smile. "Why can't we recover it?"  
Patience sighed. "You know me too well, Mandy."  
"You used it to build something, didn't you?" he said suddenly.  
"Interjection: You'll never see the mask again."  
Canderous turned to glare at the droid, and was about to tell it to stay out of their conversation when his Mandalorian-trained eyes started to look more carefully at the droid.  
"HK, be nice," Patience pleaded. "Or, at least, non-violent. Semi non-violent. Just… just stop talking."  
"You used the Mask of Mandalore the Ultimate to build a droid?"  
"It's a really cool droid," she said weakly.  
"Observation: The Mask has more kills now than Mandalore the Ultimate ever did."  
Canderous turned back to her, and waited for an explanation.  
"I – Revan – really didn't like Mandalorians. Revan didn't fight to win wars, she fought to see her enemies broken and crushed beneath her feet." Patience hid her face in her hands. "I knew perfectly well how the Mandalorians would react to losing the Mask. It was a cruel and efficient way to ensure that the leadership of the Mandalorians would fall apart. It was good strategy, that just happened to appeal to my sense of humor."  
"So it really is gone forever?"  
"Well, no, I could get it back out again if I wanted to. But who would I give it to? If I just announced that it was restored, the wars would just break out all over again, and even more people would die."  
"Give it to Canderous."  
She looked up in surprise. She hadn't heard Carth approach, and he was just leaning against the wall, casually smiling at nothing in particular. She glanced quickly at Canderous, and almost laughed at the look on his face.  
"What? Me? You can't do that, that would make me Mandalore!"  
Carth smiled. "So?"  
"But that's totally ridiculous," Canderous protested. "I'm not worthy to be Mandalore!"  
"Yes, you are," she said softly. "Blade and spirits, you most certainly are." She looked curiously at Carth.  
"You know," he said conversationally, "that's the first time you've talked about something Revan did without separating her into another person."  
"I guess I'm getting tired of pretending to be something I'm not," she sighed. "I just wish everything associated with Revan didn't come with guilt of galactic proportions."  
"I seem to recall something about a Jedi Knight who saved the Republic," said Carth calmly. "I believe she was something of a hero." He met her eyes, and smiled, a very soft and kind smile that made her heart flutter wildly in her chest. "But, if it's all the same to you, I'm going to keep calling you Patience." He pushed himself away from the wall. "I'm going to go check on the computer again."  
She watched him leave, stunned into silence for a few moments. She shook herself, trying to recover her sense of balance. "HK-47, deactivate all processes."  
"Verification: Voice code accepted. Deactivating."  
"Could you bring him over here? He's a little heavy."  
"You know, you don't have to listen to him," Canderous urged. "You're not really going to make me Mandalore, are you?"  
Revan jumped off the workbench. "Someone has to preserve what's left of the Mandalorian culture. The good parts, anyway. Might as well be you. Give me your mask, I'm going to need some parts."

Bastila started in surprise at the gentle touch, then moaned in pleasure as the young man's tongue slid over her, cleaning away the traces of Malak's conquest. Bastila leaned back, and opened her legs a little wider for him. She smiled as he eagerly moved closer, kissing and licking her soft folds with an admirable expertise. "What a pleasant way to wake up," she laughed.  
"I've always thought so," Malak agreed.  
Bastila gasped in ecstasy, and cried out as the skillful tongue flickered over her. She let the first waves of pleasure wash over her before she spoke again. "Was Hannah supposed to wake you up this way?"  
"One or the other," Malak chuckled. "I prefer to keep my options open."  
Bastila laughed, then gasped in pleasure. "He's very well trained."  
"Thank you. Well, thank Revan. He's not as good as the original, though." Malak laughed cruelly as the young officer blushed.  
Bastila made a soft noise of appreciation. "That's enough, boy." She waved him away, and he obediently rose to his feet and left the room. Bastila gracefully rose to her knees, facing Malak.  
"I have a question for you."  
"I have an answer. The answer is probably Revan, just so you know."  
Bastila laughed. "What happened to your jaw?"  
"Revan." Malak laughed at the look on her face. "I did warn you. I failed to kill her, and she took it personally. Not the attempt, the failure. She finds failure irritating." He gestured towards the prosthetic. "Part of the reason my second attempt was from a distance. It should have succeeded."  
"Well, it certainly wasn't for lack of effort on your part." She regarded him curiously. "So... who was your first?"  
"At last, a question where the answer is not Revan," Malak chuckled. "It was a beautiful girl, a former slave, and I rescued her from a fate worse than death. Ah, the heady days of youth. Sadly, it seems sacrificing yourself and being tortured in another's place wasn't quite enough to win someone's undying love back in those days, and she left me to live a life of peace and safety with a younger, less ambitious idiot." Malak laughed at the memory. "Still, she was very beautiful."  
"More beautiful than Revan?"  
Malak shrugged. "Revan wasn't an option." Malak looked at her. "I have a question for you."  
"All right," said Bastila nervously.  
"Revan was winning. Why did you come to me?"  
"Patience was winning. Not Revan."  
"So," said Malak softly, "there is a difference. Is there?"  
Bastila shrugged. "Patience is not all there, to say the least. Revan was – is different. Revan is in there, somewhere."  
"Dreshdae."  
Bastila nodded. "There have been other moments. Little flashes, short hints. But lately – with Carth – Revan has been fading. Like Patience is the real identity, and Revan is only the imprinted personality. Patience has this vision – of the future. A mad, impossible future, with Carth on a farm with their babies."  
"What?" Malak laughed. "Revan and babies?"  
Bastila laughed, a little rudely. "No, Patience and babies. She acts like she would give up everything for the chance of living out her days on a little farm with that idiot pilot. All that power, all that possibility, and she would rather spend her days chasing after snot-nosed brats."  
Malak laughed again, the electronics muting his mirth. "But Revan – or whatever you want to call that body – Revan can't have children. She was fixed, if that is the right term."  
"What?" Bastila looked at him in surprise.  
"She has a genetic condition that necessitated enforced sterilization. At least, that's what one of her old Masters told me when I asked why she couldn't have children. It always bothered her." Malak laughed again, cruel and unfriendly. "Actually, I think it drove her mad."  
"I can believe that," smiled Bastila. "She's practically obsessed with children. And they like her, too."  
"Really?" said Malak dryly. "I thought children naturally feared the Dark."  
Bastila smiled. "I guess they can't tell. Something about her just appeals to them. For example, there was one little boy, on Tatooine, he just wouldn't stop hugging her, and you could see her shining with happiness. It was rather pathetic, actually."  
Malak raised a curious eyebrow. "What was a little boy doing on Tatooine?"  
"Heading for Coruscant, I believe, with his mother and father. Well, her husband, actually, I don’t think the little boy was related to her husband." She looked critically at Malak. "Now that I think of it, the little boy looked a lot like you. Well, you before you became an evil Sith Lord, that is."  
"Really?" asked Malak. "Was the woman a white-haired beauty, with slave markings on her face?"  
Bastila nodded. "Do you know her?"  
"Intimately." Malak sighed. "And I suppose I know the little boy, as well. I should ask her what she named him, but her husband will probably try to kill me."  
Bastila giggled. "Speaking of killing, why did you send your Shadow Hand against Revan? Even insane, she's still worlds better than he ever was."  
"Karath can fly a ship," said Malak dryly.  
"So who's flying your ship now?" asked Bastila curiously.  
Malak chuckled and held out his hand to her. "Come, let me show you."


	31. The Quest and the Question

Patience walked to the bridge, more nervous than she had ever felt before in her entire, long life.  T3 gave a reassuring beep as she walked past the communications room, and Carth looked up in surprise.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I guess we're all set to head out?" she asked, and Carth nodded.  "Soo… the Star Maps are sending us to a hidden world in some weird system that no one knows anything about."

"Yeah, looks like."

"Um… before we go… can we talk?  One more time?  About – me – about Revan?"

"If you're ready to talk, then yes.  So am I."

Patience smiled nervously, and looked down at the floor.

Carth stood up from the pilot's seat, and gently tilted her face up to his.  "When Karath was dying, he told me that it was Revan who had ordered the attack on Telos.  Not Malak.  Not him.  Revan.  And he told me that Revan – was you.  But that's not exactly true, is it?"

"I – I did order the attack on Telos," said Patience softly.  "I am Revan, Carth.  I was a jealous, selfish monster, who took out her pain on people who couldn't strike back.  I tainted the souls of everyone around me."

"But not anymore," Carth pointed out.  "You're not that person.  Not now.  I have tried to see it in you, to hate you for the things that I know you've done.  For Telos.  For Dustil.  For Morgana.  But I can't.  I can't hate you… Revan."

She flushed at that, and Carth smiled.

"I dreamed about revenge for years, and with Karath dead, I should have everything I ever wanted.  But I don't.  His death hasn't brought me any peace, or any sense of balance.  All I can think about is the promise that I made to you.  To watch over you, to catch you before you fell.  I know what you're capable of, Revan.  There is darkness inside you, but there's also light, an incredible light.  You don't need to be what you once were.  You can be so much more.  You are so much more.  I mean, even if you stopped today, you would still be the greatest and most wonderful person that I have ever known.

"But I don't want you to stop.  I want to you finish what you started, and I want to help you.  I want to be with you when the hero Revan saves the galaxy, again, and I want to be with you when Patience finally decides to settle down on a farm somewhere."

"Carth," Patience tried to say something, but the tears falling from her eyes choked up her throat and left her speechless.

Carth stepped forward and put his arms around her.  "I want to give you a reason to make the right choice," he said gently.

"Oh, Carth," was all she could say, sobbing against his chest, drinking in his strength and his love.

"I want to give you a future, Patience.  A chance to start over, for both of us.  We'll face it together, and do what has to be done.  And when this is all over… we'll…."  He brought his lips down to hers, a silent promise.

 

"Nice landing, flyboy," smiled Canderous as they stepped out of the Ebon Hawk.

"I can't believe we got shot down," grumbled Carth.  "What was that thing?  Who makes a planetary defense system like that anyway?"

"This planet is beautiful," gushed Mission.  "Look at all these plants and stuff!"

Zaalbar growled furiously, and shot at an approaching gizka.

"What?   Eww!  Quick, put down traps, don't let them on the ship!"  Patience joined the Wookiee in shooting the gizka before they could infect her ship, while T3 and Canderous started setting out traps.  Suddenly Patience stopped and put her hands to her head, fighting back an almost painful wave of memories.  Malak, laughing at her disgust until the irrational fear had driven her to the edge, and she had – Patience shook her head, and looked down the beach where they had crashed.  Farther down the shore, there was a crater, a silent testament of Revan's first visit to this world.  Lehon.  The last outpost of the Infinite Empire.

And this was all that was left of their greatness.  A world hidden by the Jedi from the eyes of the galaxy, a world concealed and removed from history itself.  One world, with nothing but two warring groups of a species so damaged by their past reliance on the Dark Side that they were now genetically blind to the Force.  The Rakata, once true Masters of the Dark Side, were now so blind that the most barely trained student could strip the truth from their minds with almost no effort.  One world, and one other memento of their past.

Patience looked up at the sky, and her eyes sought out the steady, shining point of light that wasn't a moon.  "The Star Forge," she whispered softly.  She couldn't remember learning their language, or their history, but she knew it all.  She vaguely remembered lying to the Elders, with Malak standing just behind her as she spoke.  Promising that they would destroy the Star Forge, and put an end to its evil forever, so that the Rakata could finally move away from the evil of their past.

Instead, Revan had taught the Star Forge to sing.

"Patience?" asked Carth carefully.  "Are you all right?"

Patience shook herself out of her memories.  The Rakata weren't the only people who needed to move away from the evils of their past.  "This way.  There's a settlement down here."

"You've been here before?" Carth asked quietly.

Patience nodded, but didn't stop walking.  "Look out for the rancors."

"Rancors?" said Canderous eagerly.  "Wild rancors?"

Carth looked at him sourly.  "You don't need to sound so happy about it."

There were almost enough wild rancors to satisfy Canderous as they fought their way down towards the main settlement.  A group of Rakata warriors, with tame rancors, stopped them on the path.  Their speech was horribly alien, yet sibilant in a strangely familiar way.  Patience realized that their language – which she understood perfectly – wasn't all theirs.  Some words were borrowed.

"Do you understand what they are saying?" asked Carth nervously.

"Yes," said Patience simply.  "They want me to meet with their leader."

Carth looked at her curiously.  "Why you?"

"Rakata live for a long time.  The One – their leader – wants to know if I'm ever going to follow through on my promise.  Come on."

"Who are these people?" Carth asked.  "Rakata?  I've never heard of them."

"Remember all those Star Maps?  And the giant computers that recited the glory of the Infinite Empire?"  Patience gestured towards the savage aliens.  "That's them.  They were the Infinite Empire."

Canderous grunted.  "Not so infinite after all.  What happened to them?"

Patience shrugged.  "Technically, their installations still exist, and they will forever.  The Star Maps especially, they're self-repairing.  So it's kind of infinite."

T3 beeped a question, but Patience continued as if she hadn't heard him.

"Their weakness was that they relied on the Dark Side of the Force.  They specifically bred their children and stole genetic material from their slave species to improve their mastery of the Dark Side.  But the Dark can't exist without the Light.  They got to a point where they were simply unable to sense the Force.  And their slaves rose up against them, and completely destroyed their far-flung Empire, leaving no trace of their former masters behind.  Some of the planets fell into barbarity, and the entire communications network that linked all of the Infinite Empire together was completely destroyed."

"How do you know this?" asked Carth calmly, trying not to be suspicious.

Patience sighed.  "The Elders have a computer – like the ones that run the Star Maps.  They can't use it, none of the Rakatans can.  You have to be a Force user to activate it."

Jolee looked at her.  "You have to be a Dark Side user, you mean."

Patience sighed again.  "Yes, you have to be powerful in the Dark Side to use it.  And you also have to know computers in general.  Malak could never get it to respond to him beyond the basics of history and some instructional material."

"Instructional material."  Jolee looked at her.

"Wait – like one of those evil triangles that teach you how to be a Sith?  Why are we going to visit these aliens again?" demanded Carth.

"The One is at war with the Elders.  Revan – I – promised to help him recover a book from the Elders a few years ago.  The Elders have been researching genetics, and trying to recover the Rakatan ability to control the Force, but they want to be more balanced this time."  Patience sighed again, and blushed slightly.  "I promised to help both sides last time I was here, and instead, I stole a bunch of books and tricked them into letting me into the Temple that controls access to the Star Forge."

"What's a Star Forge?" asked Mission.

Patience pointed up at the bright point of light that wasn't a moon.  "That."

"What?"  Carth looked up, then back at Patience.  "It… forges… stars?"

"Yes.  It can.  I never did, though, I just used it to make a battle fleet.  And shiny things."

Carth stared at her.

"Just… never mind, don't try to talk to the Rakatans."

"What kind of fuel does something like that use?" asked Jolee quietly, as they walked into the settlement.

Patience didn't answer that question either.

 

A large spherical droid with an oddly malevolent red optical unit floated up to Malak.  "My Lord.  Revan has landed on Lehon."

Malak waved the droid away.  "I know.  I felt her presence.  Ready the defenses on the Temple, and prepare the Star Forge for an attack."

Bastila laughed as the droid floated away with an almost angry little bounce.  "I think you hurt its feelings."

"Despite what Revan believes, droids don't actually feel things.  They just do as they are programmed."

"One could say the same thing about sentients," smiled Bastila.  "Why are you preparing the Star Forge for an attack?  Do you really think they'll make it that far?"

Malak laughed.  "If nothing else, Revan will blunder her way that far.  I would prefer to be prepared."

Bastila looked out the viewport.  Here, on Malak's flagship, space seemed darker and emptier than it ever had before.  "Are you going to fight her here?  Or go down to the surface?"

"Neither," said Malak grimly.  "I will wait at the heart of the Star Forge.  You will go down to the Temple and see if she makes it to the control room."

Bastila looked curiously at him.  "You trust me?"

"I trust your passion.  I trust your hunger.  You might try to betray me, if the true Revan makes an appearance.  That won't be a surprise.  But you won't turn your back on the power I offer you."  Malak laughed again.  "Not for a woman who wants to settle down on a farm and raise babies."

Bastila smiled.  "No, that – that doesn't seem very likely."  She looked into the darkness again, and saw her own reflection in it.  "No, but – we don't have to leave right away, do we?  We have some time?"  She turned back to Malak with a smile, and reached up to undo the clasps that held Malak's leather armor in place, and smiled as it slid away.  "A few moments before battle?"

 

"You have saved our missing kinsman and defeated The One," said the leader of the Elders, his alien voice grave and quiet.  "Your ship has been repaired.  And now, you ask us to trust you again."

Patience looked shyly at her toes.  "I have no other choice.  This is the path I must take."

"There were other choices.  You could have betrayed us and helped The One to destroy the barrier permanently.  You could easily have slain all the warriors in our settlement.  But you chose to honor the pact that you made – this time.  So, then, shall we."

"What is he saying?" asked Carth curiously.

"They're going to let us into the Temple," said Jolee.

The Elders looked curiously at the Jedi.  "The wise one is learning our way of speech.  Only those who can command the Force – those like you – can enter the Temple of the Ancients."

"For our own sake, and that of the entire galaxy, we hope that you truly mean to atone for your past evils," said the leader sternly.  "When you are ready, Revan, we will take you to the Temple.  But the Temple is a place of sacred power.  If you are to enter, you must do so alone, in the tradition followed by our Rakata ancestors."

Revan nodded.  "I understand."

"Alone?" said Jolee sharply.

Even though he had spoken in Standard, it seemed that the Rakata understood.  "We believe that you truly wish to destroy the Star Forge this time.  But the lessons of the past are not easily forgotten.  We will not defile the sacred ritual again.  Only Revan alone may enter," said the leader in a tone that forbade argument.

Jolee frowned at their words, but didn't say anything as they walked up to the energy shield protecting the ancient Temple.

"The time has come for you to atone for your past crimes, Revan.  But the task ahead will be difficult.  Those who you call the Dark Jedi – the followers of your old apprentice – now dwell within the Temple itself, seeking more of the dark knowledge that lies buried there."

Patience felt a faint sense of irritation at the knowledge that Malak used the Temple as a training ground.  Why had he come back here, of all places?  Patience shook off the shadow memory, and forced herself to focus on the present.

"Wait, did he just say that there are Dark Jedi inside?" asked Juhani.

"Yes.  Malak is using the Temple to train his followers.  Those that survive, get to be his followers."

"Won't they be able to stop the Elders from opening the barrier?"

Revan smiled at Juhani's question.  "No, they're two separate power grids.  Of course, once I'm inside, I won't be able to get back out again until I disable the security and the planetary disruptor field so we can take off again."

Jolee and Juhani looked at each other.

They walked slowly to the Ancient temple.  Carth walked up to Jolee, and looked at him curiously.

"What?" said the old Jedi, even more irritable than usual.

"When?"

Jolee smiled to himself, and looked curiously at Carth.  "You're not as dumb as you look, flyboy."  He sighed heavily, aware that everyone else in the group was pretending not to listen.  "You've heard me talk about being a privateer in the old days, right?"

"Yeah, you and Sunry and Elora and Nayama, who makes my piloting look like I'm driving a pregnant nerf.  I remember."

"Well, I didn't mention was that me and Nayama – we were just like Sunry and Elora.  We were married."

"I figured it was something like that," grinned Carth.  "You spend a little too much time rambling about how she was sexier than Patience.  But I always thought Jedi didn't get married, even if they fell in love."

"Well, when you're doing the Council's dirty work for them, they overlook certain things.  But, I was stupid, and went too far.  See, Nayama – it turned out that she had some ability with the Force.  She should have been taken to the Jedi, but somehow they had never noticed her and here she was, a grown woman with more raw talent than a handful of younglings put together.  So I trained her.  And when we crossed paths with Exar Kun, she fell."  Jolee sighed, still hurt by the memory of his failure.

"She joined Exar Kun?"

Jolee nodded.  "And I went after her.  We fought.  I won.  But – I couldn't kill her.  I let her go, and she went back to Kun.  I offered her mercy, and she rejected it."

"But you didn't join Exar Kun."

"No, I'm not that stupid," Jolee scoffed.  "I couldn't kill her.  She was my wife."  Jolee sighed.  "That wasn't true of the other Sith with Exar Kun."  There was a strange, unfamiliar coldness in Jolee's voice when he spoke of killing Sith.

Carth frowned.  "But the Jedi were fighting against the Sith – "

"I wasn't with the Jedi, boy."  Jolee looked at Carth, to see if he was following the story.  "I was still using my privateer status with the Republic and hunting down Kun's Sith followers on my own."

"Oh."

Canderous looked curiously at the old Jedi.  "What happened to her?"

"She died in the final battle, when they sealed Exar Kun away."

"Did you get in any trouble with the Council?" asked Patience.

"Stupid, blind fools tried to give me a promotion.  A promotion," he scoffed, and turned away to hide the glint of tears in his eyes.  "Said I'd learned my lesson the hard way, and it made me a better Jedi."

Patience silently agreed, but decided not to comment.  She was making a lot of silent decisions today, she realized.

Canderous looked at Carth.  "What made you ask that?"

"He wouldn't be able to understand the Rakata if he'd never touched the Dark Side," Carth explained.

Canderous frowned.  "Oh."

"The next person who says that is gonna get smacked," said Mission.  "Why is everybody being so weird?  We're almost done!  We're gonna win!"

Patience smiled at the young Twi'lek's faith.  "Well, I'll do my best," she promised.  Overhead, the baleful point of the light that wasn't a star or a moon seemed to wink at her.

 

"The ritual has been prepared," said the leader of the Elders.  "We will lower the shields protecting the Temple, but you must be ready.  They will not stay down for long."

Patience nodded, and the gathered Rakata knelt down and began chanting, reciting an age-old passcode without even realizing what they were doing.  She had left the others with the ship to finish repairs while she prepared to enter the Temple.  She wondered what Carth was doing right now.

"Wait – someone is coming," said one of the Elders.  Patience turned in surprise, to see Jolee and Juhani run up.

"You can't go in there alone," said Jolee firmly.

"What are you doing here?" Patience demanded.  "We already discussed this!"

"You must go alone," said the leader of the Elders.  "We can only disable the shield for a few moments."

Patience stepped forward.  "I'm ready.  Just – ignore them.  I didn't call them."

"But she isn't alone," said Jolee calmly.  "You just can't see the person with her."

Patience flinched and whirled around.  "You still don't trust me?"

"I know you," said Jolee gently.  "You still haven't remembered everything.  Not my fault, but there you are.  What happens if someone tempts Revan when no one is around to see Patience?"

Patience stiffened.  Part of her wanted to insist that she could do this, that she didn't need watching, but part of her really wanted someone to come with her.  And then she realized why they – the two Jedi – were here.  They had come because the man who had promised to watch over her knew that he couldn't join her in the Temple.  He had sent them – Patience felt a small, happy glow in her heart, and knew it was Carth, loving her, thinking of her.

"What is the wise one saying?" asked the leader of the Elders.

"He wants to come with me.  Just in case," Patience explained.  "He points out that I'm in danger from the Temple."  Patience smiled.  "I think – under the circumstances – please allow me to bring my companions."

The leader of the Elders frowned.  "No other can go with you into the Temple," he insisted.  "You must enter alone.  That is the way of the ancient ritual."

"For something like this, one can never be prepared enough," said Juhani softly.

Patience looked at her in surprise.  "You're learning it, too?"

Juhani nodded.  "I am beginning to understand, yes.  Their language – it is not all words, is it?"

Patience grinned wryly.  "No, it isn't."  She turned to the leader.  "I do not wish to disturb your ancient ritual, but walking alone is the way of the Dark side."  She gestured at Jolee and Juhani.  "It is the way of the Jedi to depend on each other, to offer support and aid whenever necessary.  And more importantly, if I fall – in battle, or otherwise – they will be there to finish the mission.  I can't destroy the Star Forge alone.  I need their help.  Now, and always."

The leader nodded slowly.  "I understand," said the leader slowly, "you all serve to keep each other on the proper path."  He looked carefully at Juhani and Jolee.  "So be it.  As you know, we can sense nothing of your true intentions.  But the fact that you are willing to leave behind the one you care about most indicates that you do not mean to betray us again."

Patience blushed brightly.  "That obvious, is it?"

Jolee grinned.  "It's that baby thing again, right?"

"Jolee!"

Everyone burst into nervous laughter.

"You have changed much, Revan.  We will remove the barrier now.  Move quickly, and return safely."

 

"My Lord."

Malak turned slightly to see the Sith Commander approaching, and nodded for him to continue, before turning back to the attentions of the medical droid.  The droid was repairing his prosthetic, at the same time that it was working on the remains of his jaw and damaged face.  Revan's blow had been cruel, severing bone and searing away nerve endings.  Not even kolto could heal what was no longer there, thought Malak to himself.  She could have healed the damage at the time, but now it was too late.  She had struck him down, turned her back on him, and he vowed again that he would make her pay.  The Commander reported that the Star Forge was operating well above the projected capacity, and that the fleet grew daily.  Malak wondered whether the Star Forge was still obeying him, or whether it sensed her presence, even from here.

"No matter," he said to himself as the medical droid reattached the prosthetic.  "Once Bastila joins her Battle Meditation to my fleet, no one will be able to stop me.  I will crush the Republic forever, and unite this entire galaxy into a Sith Empire under my rule."

The Commander saluted sharply at that, and Malak chuckled.

"Yes, and you will be part of it," he mused.  "All of you, loyal to the power that guides you."  He looked around the room once more and for a moment, he saw not a room bristling with alien technology and filled with azure blue uniforms, but a young woman, her blue eyes glowing with excitement as she eagerly touched and investigated, her hood pushed back and the mask thrown aside.  Malak turned away from the memory.  That woman was gone, or at least, he would never see her again.  Revan – if that woman was truly Revan – was a part of his past now, something to be defeated.  "Never again," murmured Malak.  "I will unite the galaxy, and nothing will stop me."  Malak walked over to a nearby monitoring station, and demanded the latest reports.


	32. Kiss of the Wind

Patience sighed as they defeated yet another group of Dark Jedi in the Temple of the Ancients.

"What's wrong?" asked Juhani.

"They're too far gone to save," said Patience sadly.  "I don't like killing them, but they've followed Malak for so long….  With the Enclave on Dantooine gone, there aren't going to be very many Force users left in the galaxy."

Jolee grunted.  "We don't have a choice, Patience.  We're being guided down this path, dark as it is.  We can only hope there is some Light at the end."

Patience nodded.  "Maybe if we can get rid of the leader, the rest will scatter.  I'd like to spare some of them, if I can."

Jolee shook his head.  "Fool girl.  Where would they go?"

Patience frowned.  "I'll think of something if I have anybody to save.  Come on," she led them to the central door.  "This should lead to the chamber that will give us access to the catacombs.  We can disable the power grid from there, then we can go to the top of the temple and take down the planetary shield and defenses."

The door opened, and a tall man, thin to the point of starvation, slowly turned to face the intruders.  An ugly scar disfigured part of his face, and his skin was bleached white, his eyes yellow with corruption.  "Revan.  You have returned."  The other Dark Jedi in the room already had their lightsabers out and ready, but Patience and the man kept their eyes on each other, ignoring everyone else.

"You must be the Master of the Temple," said Patience slowly.

"I am.  And you are no longer worthy to be the leader of the Sith."

"I do not want to be the leader of the Sith," said Patience calmly.  "I am a Jedi.  I walk in the Light, and I will save the galaxy.  You will not stop me."

"Malak claimed that you were a mere shell of what you once were," the man mused.  "He claimed that the Jedi Council had erased all of your memories.  But I can see that is not so," he said as he watched Patience slowly shift into a fighting stance, saw her confidently moving the lightsabers in the first passes of one of the many dueling forms.  "No, Teacher, you are all that you ever were, and more.  But I walk the path of the Dark Side now, and I will not abandon my Master.  Not again."

Patience cringed at the memory of breaking kidnapped Jedi to her will.  Of letting Malak taunt a Fallen Jedi until his rage had taken over, and he had fully given himself to the Dark Side.  "Let the others watch," she suggested.  "Let us duel, you and I.  No one else has to die."

The man laughed harshly.  "Why?  So that they can live to suffer at your hands again?  Besides, Malak would not approve.  He wants you dead."  He drew his lightsaber in a blindingly fast move, and swung at her, but Patience, as always, had sensed the attack and moved out the way, blocking with her own lightsaber.  "He wants you dead," the man repeated, "and so do I."

Patience concentrated on the Temple's Master, leaving the other Dark Jedi for Jolee and Juhani.  This man – one of her former students – he was a good duelist.  Among one of the best she had ever trained, once she had taught him to channel his rage and sense of betrayal.  "You were a good Jedi," she said ruefully.  "I'm sorry."

"Bitch!" he snarled, swinging his blade down in a blow that would have crippled her if she hadn't blocked in time.  "What good does it do to be sorry now?  You destroyed everything!  You killed everyone who meant anything to me!  And now you're sorry?  It's too late!"

Patience blocked his angry swings, and her lightsaber slipped under his guard, burying her lightsaber in his chest.  He staggered back, his mind unable to comprehend that his body was already dead.  "I know it's too late," sighed Patience, "but I'm still sorry, Geele.  Maybe someday you'll understand."  He fell to the floor, his eyes still open but unseeing.  Patience started to turn away, but saw a small, familiar keycard fall from his robes.  "It can't be," she gasped.  She picked up the keycard and looked wildly around the room.

Jolee and Juhani watched her as she ran over to the cot where Geele had slept, and broke open the footlocker.  "What have you got there?" asked Jolee as she carefully pulled out a small jeweled chest.

"This – this was mine," said Patience slowly.  She could feel tears building up, and she wasn't sure what she was mourning.  "He must have stolen it from my room, after…."  Patience brushed away a tear and used the keycard to open the chest.  There, glittering brightly on a bed of rich, red velvet, lay a pair of beautiful lightsaber crystals.  "He should have used them," she said bitterly.  "He would have beaten me if he had used them."

Jolee laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "He didn't want to beat you, Patience.  He wanted to be free."

Patience brushed away her tears and put the tiny chest in her bag.  "Let's go.  That elevator goes to the lower level."  The longer she spent in the temple, the more things came back to her.  Faster, with more clarity, but not always connected.  She remembered faces now.  Her trusted team.  Friends, companions, almost lovers.  Discarding parts of the Jedi Code and being better Mandalorians than the Mandalorians themselves.  "Keep what makes you stronger," she whispered.  Patience pressed her hands against her eyes, trying to stop the sudden flow of tears.  "Keep it close to your heart, stab yourself in the chest with it," she heard herself saying, and realized she was speaking Mando'a.  "Make it part of you."

And if that thing was taken away?

You would be left an empty shell, waiting for something else to fill your heart and write itself on your psyche.

"Patience?"  Jolee looked at her, waiting for her to continue leading them through the temple.

"Who am I?" she whispered again.

"Who do you want to be?" countered Jolee.  "You can't change the past, girl.  You can either forget it, or work with it.  Either way, it's up to you who you are.  But you choose your side, don't let yourself be driven out of fear."

"People make mistakes," added Juhani softly.  "But mistakes do not make people.  You are who you are, Patience.  You know this."

Patience felt her heart lightening.  "Thanks."  She reached out and hugged Juhani tightly, then pounced on Jolee before he could move, and hugged him as well.  "Thank you.  Both of you."

"Fool girl," the old man chuckled as he hugged her back.  "That's what friends are for.  Now, let's get back to saving the galaxy."

 

"What an annoying puzzle," grumbled Patience as the doors to the central computer room finally opened.

"Did you put that there?" asked Juhani.

Patience shook her head.  "The Rakata put it there.  Malak could always solve it in a few moves, but for some reason, I always screw up the step in the middle."  Patience sighed.  "Symbolism, I guess."

Jolee chuckled, and followed Patience into the computer room.  The air was cool and dry, and the whole room hummed with the sound of electronics.

"Welcome back, Revan," intoned the computer.  The mechanical voice spoke the bizarrely sibilant tongue of the Rakata.

Patience blinked at the computer, but didn't speak.

"It has been some time since you last accessed my database.  I was beginning to wonder if you had been terminated."

Patience laughed softly at that.  "No, I'm still alive.  Mostly.  I'm not really Revan anymore, though.  My name is Patience now."

The computer whirred to itself.  Just like the Rakata computer in the Shadowlands, it seemed to recognize the essential parts of Revan inside her.  The shapes she made when she moved her lightsabers.  The taste of her thoughts.  The rhythm of her speech.  It wasn’t the body that made her Revan, not to the computers.  It was Revan who made her.

"Your neurological patterns exhibit subtle yet substantive alteration," the computer observed.  "But your power progression has increased at the expected rate."

It took Patience a moment to understand what the computer was talking about.

"My strength in the Force."  Patience shook herself.  "Not now.  It doesn't matter now."  She accessed the database, her small hands dancing over the keyboard.

"What are you doing?" asked Jolee.

"I promised to try and help," said Patience.  "This is the data the Elders wanted.  I don't think it will help them," she sighed as she downloaded the information to her datapad.  "But I promised.  Now, for the disruptor field – dammit, Malak!"  She slammed her hand on the computer, and the entire room shook.  "Oh, oh, I'm so sorry," she said quickly.

"What's wrong?" asked Juhani.

Jolee looked at her oddly, but didn't comment on the fact that she was apologizing to a machine.

"Malak changed the security," said Patience bitterly.  "We have to go to the upper level of the temple to get to the controls.  That is, if I can still get through the doors."

The computer whirred softly.  "There is a low margin of error," it assured her.  "Despite the acknowledged changes in your neurological patterns, you are Revan.  The security system has been updated to allow you complete access again."

Juhani tilted her head as the computer spoke.  "It's like it wants to be your friend," she said quietly.

Patience smiled.  "I would hope so!  I like machines.  I always try to be nice to them."  

Jolee watched her curiously as Patience said goodbye to the Rakata computer.  "Strange one, ain't you?"

Patience filed away her datapads.  "Let's get going."  The walk through the temple was much easier now.  The droids no longer attacked, and the acolytes seemed to be gone.  Patience led them to the top of the temple, an open landing pad area.

 

“Revan.”  Bastila walked up to them, meeting them in the center of the clearing atop the Rakata Temple.  She didn’t look like a Jedi.  Not in the skin-tight black gown cut for grace and freedom of movement, not with the slender gold chain supporting a single, huge, perfectly cut blood-red ruby around her neck.  But it was Bastila.  “I knew you’d come for me.  Malak thought you’d be afraid to enter the temple.  But he doesn’t know you like I do.  Not anymore.  Not since you’ve changed.”

Patience suddenly had the strangest urge to grab Bastila, and start kissing her until - Patience shook her head quickly.  That was wrong.  Not Bastila - not anymore.  Not since she had changed.  Patience blinked at herself again, trying to make her mind behave.

“Come, Bastila,” Juhani urged.  “We can flee before Malak arrives.”

Jolee shook his head, and Bastila smiled slowly.

“Escape?”  Bastila laughed, and Patience felt a strange chill down her spine as Bastila went on.  “You still don’t understand, do you?  I’ve sworn allegiance to Lord Malak, and the way of the Sith.  I am no longer a mere pawn of the Jedi Council,” she said proudly.

Jolee just sighed, but Juhani took a step back in horror.  Patience just stared at her, and tried to focus on anything other than Bastila’s perfectly curved hips.

“Bastila, no.  Don’t do this,” said Patience gently.  “Don’t make me do this.  Don’t fall to the Dark Side.”

Bastila laughed, genuinely amused.  “You say that like I’ve done some terrible thing, something that no one has ever done.”  She smiled at Patience.  “Are you seriously so brainwashed by the Jedi Council as to believe this nonsense?  That the Dark Side is some terrible entity to be feared and distrusted?  Come, Revan.  You of all people know this is untrue.  You know that the Council only wishes to manipulate and control.  They are no more good than the so-called Dark Side is evil.  They seek nothing but control,” she repeated.  “Why do you think they restrain those who are so exceptional?”  She looked at Revan.  “Why do you think they wanted to keep you and Malak and all your followers from going against the Mandalorians?  It is in war that we learn our true potential, is it not?”

Patience shook her head, not in disagreement, but in an attempt to force herself back into her own memories.

“Just like you, they’ve been holding me back because they feared that I would surpass them all,” said Bastila bitterly.  “You know this is true, don’t you, Revan?  Don’t you?”

“And you will,” Patience murmured before she could stop herself.  “No.  No, Bastila, don’t do this.  Don’t take this path - this isn’t you.  You’re stronger - ”

“Oh, Patience,” she smiled.  “I resisted at first.  I suffered Malak’s torments with the passionless serenity of a true Jedi.  But underneath it all was that soft reminder - that ever-present thought - that everything that Malak was, was because he had been taught by the greatest Sith that ever lived.”

Patience physically stepped back this time.  She was too close, and Bastila was too - Bastila.

“Malak showed me the path out of the tunnel that we call the Jedi Order.  He showed me the liberating power of submitting to my true emotions - my anger, my hatred - my desire.  And more, he showed me that the Jedi Order has been using me.  Using my Battle Meditation to win their wars, all while keeping me leashed, like an unruly child.  Were they jealous of me?  Did they fear me?  Or did they fear what I could become?”

Oddly, the rush of Bastila’s dark emotions helped Patience center herself.  She knew the answer - it wasn’t fear or jealousy that drove the Council.  It was the long patience of knowledge and wisdom.  The heavy burden of knowing just how dangerous one simple act could be a hundred years in the future.  “Sith lies, Bastila.  And  you know it.  You know your Masters better than that.  And you know yourself, as well.  You are having a moment of weakness, and you are projecting your own emotions, seeing their actions through the filter of your guilt and anger.”

“Lies, Revan?” Bastila smirked.  “You are the living embodiment of lies right now.  They programed you to be their slave, and you are dancing happily to their tune, on some ridiculous false dream of the future.  You used to be Darth Revan, the most powerful Sith in the galaxy!  How can you turn your back on that?”

Patience smiled gently.  “Because I know the truth, Bastila, even if you never see it.  I was not the most powerful Sith, or the most powerful Jedi.  I was not then, and I am not now.”

Bastila laughed harshly.  “Then you are a pawn.  Be a pawn if you will, Revan.  Serve the Jedi and their tattered Republic.  If the power you once had is that choked and diluted, it is a pity but -” she shrugged, “there is nothing more you can do.  I am superior to you in every way, Revan.  With the power of the Star Forge, Malak will destroy the Republic and wipe out every last trace of the Jedi.  Malak will conquer the galaxy, and I will be the only apprentice at his side - after I prove my worth by killing you!”

Patience decided now would not be a good time to point out how Malak’s last apprentice had met his untimely end, or how Malak himself had suffered at the hands of his Master.  Instead, she drew her sabers and waited for Bastila to ready her saber.  Juhani charged forward before either of them could move, her single blue-green saber flashing in the eerie light of the moon-surrounded sun.  Jolee drew his saber as well, but his first attack was to send a wave of Force energy at Bastila, to knock her off her feet.  But Bastila’s Battle Meditation gave her warning, and she dodged both attacks.

But she wasn’t fast enough to get away from Patience.  The flashing violet blades drove Bastila back faster than she could think.  It was clear that Patience wasn’t trying to kill her, and it was all Bastila could do to keep hold of her saber.

Bastila backed away, panting and shaken.  “You - you are stronger than I would have thought possible, after what they did to you.  Strange,” she mused.  “It seems that Malak was wrong.  The power of the Dark side is not lost to you after all, Revan.”

“Or,” Patience suggested gently, “I could be fully reconciled to the Light again.  It is possible.  You should consider the possibility.”

With a laugh, Bastila retreated a few more steps.  “You can deny what you are, Revan.  You’re only fooling yourself.”  She looked at Juhani and Jolee, a smug smile on her face.  “Even if I didn’t know the truth from the shadows inside your mind, Revan, I would know it from your weapons.  I used the Force to preserve your life, Revan, but you used your strength to keep us tied together.  You could no more kill me than I you.  I know the temper of your blades, Revan.  I could feel the restraint in your blows.  You wanted to kill me, Revan.  You want my silence.”

“But I want you back more,” smiled Patience sweetly.  “I know your heart, Bastila.  As soon as your monumental pride is overcome by your heart, you will return to the Light.  Besides, we still have those chocolates to finish.”

Bastila was silent for a long moment, either from being shocked at Patience’s frivolity or wrapped up in the memory of eating delicious chocolates with her friends.  Most likely, there was a little bit of both.  She looked up, a question in her dark eyes.  A sudden suspicion fueled by her knowledge of Revan.  “Did you know?” asked Bastila slowly.  “Did you know the whole time that the Jedi Council was just using you - using us, our bond forged when I saved you - using us to find the Star Maps?  Did you know all this time?”

Patience shrugged.  “To say ‘knowing’ is hard.  I know now.  Does it matter?  It doesn’t change what I did, or what I wanted to do.”

“When I shared visions with you, I could always sense it.  That taint that the Jedi feared so much.  The power inside you.  At first I feared, but then I came to cherish it.  To hunger for it.  And now, I have embraced the Dark Side.  Your Dark Side.  Revan, return to me - to us,” she pleaded.

“Or you could, you know, learn from my mistakes?” suggested Patience with a grin.  “Seriously, Bastila.  You know this isn’t your path.”

“Mistakes?” gasped Bastila.  “No, Revan.  The only mistake is the one you are making right now!  You deny the power that is yours by right?  Rejecting the gifts of the Force?  You are the one mistaking your path!  Your power - Revan, you are the only one who deserves to be the true Master of the Sith.  Not Malak.  Come with me Revan, and together we will destroy your old apprentice - ”

“And put you in his place?  No, Bastila.  That’s not how this story ends.”  There was a small moment, as both women experienced a sudden vision of the future that would probably be - Bastila with a bawling baby on her lap, trying to keep the little girl away from a Sith holocron and Patience chasing after a crawling little boy who was trying to get his hands on a lightsaber - and they stared at each other in shock.  Patience smiled first, and Bastila backed away.  “Following the path of the Dark Side leads to destruction in this case, not creation.  Don’t do it, Bastila.  It’s not what you want.”

Bastila turned and ran for the portal to the Star Forge, knowing that Patience would let her go.  “You could have had an empire,” she screamed as the shimmering lights began to glow.  “I would have ruled at your side, Revan!”

Patience didn’t answer, and watched Bastila teleport away.  “The energy shields are over here,” she said calmly, pointing to a terminal near the portal.  “Once we get those down, we can take off and go right to the Star Forge.  We should probably give this data to the Elders.  Not that it will do them much good, but maybe knowing where they went wrong will help a little.”

“Usually does,” muttered Jolee.  “Usually does.”


End file.
